New Turns
by tmeraconda
Summary: Post Series. Cornelia and Guilford are looking for a place in this new world formed by Lelouch, but peace is fragile and they may not have a choice in where they go. Euphemia is discovered alive, with news that may threaten many carefully laid plans. Will be multi-chapter. Soft AU. Current T, rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I haven't written in a while, but rewatching this series I really, really wished Euphy didn't have to die. I tried to contrive a way for her to be alive in a post-series story that didn't disrupt the cannon too much, and this is what I've got. I think a fair disclaimer is that I still haven't found a way to make it a Euphy/Suzaku story, which is why I didn't tag him. Her feelings are there but...If there are any fans of that pair around, maybe they can help me out (Suzaku is locked up pretty tight post R2). Anyway, here we go! - T

Four months after the assassination of the demon emperor Lelouch, Cornelia and Guilford have returned to the Britannian homeland, and visit his family's home for a much-needed rest. They meet someone they do not expect.

I don't own Code Geass

* * *

Guilford walked down the street with purpose, eager to get out of the summer heat. It was a cloudless day. The bright light made his eyes ache, and he pushed his shaded glasses up again as they kept slipping. He was going to need a shower. There wasn't even much of a breeze, so his hair ended up sticking to his neck. This whole trip was a series of inconveniences. He was supposed to drive to his doctor's appointment, but when he and Cornelia had arrived at his father's estate last week, all of the cars were missing. An impromptu 'vacation' to New York to chastise his oldest brother apparently required almost all of the vehicles and house staff. 'You're not an Earl. Take the bus,' his father had said. At least it was quiet.

The doctor had told him the obvious: seven months from an eye injury his sight wasn't likely to get better, but she also said it wasn't getting worse. He said he felt he had less energy, and she said it was lack of exercise or depression. Fair enough. His photosensitivity wasn't so bad in the evenings, and at twilight he even took walks without shades. This walk could turn into a headache, though. He was just grateful he could still read, still look someone in the eye.

A group of teenagers loitered around the bus stop ahead, smoking and making sure everyone was looking at them. One young man was trying to climb onto the awning over the stop. Guilford considered ordering him down. They might spook tourists this close to the high street, and that was everyone's business in a small coastal town. He couldn't give them a stern look through his shades. As he reached the bench of the stop, a woman bustled out of a boutique across the street with a broom, pointing the handle at the children. Luckily, the bus arrived to save him from the Battle of East Church Street. He bounded up and into a seat, grateful for the air conditioning.

He was resting his eyes when the bus ran over a pothole, jolting him forward. His eyes passed over something familiar, making an automatic double take: the profile of a young woman two seats forward. She was looking out the window. He stared, his body registering what took his mind longer. The lurch of the bus taking off matched that in his stomach. It was impossible…She looked like Princess Euphemia! He turned to look out the window himself, willing his eyes away from the girl. Bursts of anxiety flared like sparks in his stomach, and he tried to focus on a steady breathing pattern instead. In and out, he was being ridiculous. It was just a similar looking person. A girl of the same age as...her, like those teenagers at the bus stop. He couldn't help but glance back, just to be sure.

 _A reflection in the window, pale pink hair over a transit map and delicate hands_

The bus stopped again, but she never looked up from her map. Maybe she was an hallucination. All the doctor's visits he'd been to in these last months, they always caused him to reflect on the past and his situation. Maybe he was more overwhelmed by his last appointment than he thought, or he overheated in the summer afternoon. Maybe he really was depressed, and now delusional. Each excuse was pulling him away from a cliff into panic, but there was a weight still threatening to overcome his efforts. If he could see her face straight on, then he could be sure because it wouldn't be her, because it couldn't be her. At the next stop she was in profile again, and he couldn't look away. He would do anything for it to be Euphemia. She had been so gentle and good. He should have protected her, or at least found justice for her.

 _This wasn't happening_

Guilford had tried not to think of Euphemia lately. Her loss was on Cornelia's face every morning, quietly crying when no one would see. This must be some projection of his anxiety for Cornelia's well being, or a manifestation of his inability to confront what he lost in Japan. He had known Euphy since she was eight years old, the one person he knew who was completely protected by so many people. She was innocent. Her death was not just a personal failure, it was the first crack in the breaking of everything he knew about the system of Britannia.

At the next stop, an older man asked for the seat next her, and she moved a bag for him to sit. She couldn't be a figment of his imagination if others were seeing her. He strained to hear what she was saying to the man, but the bus was too loud. Was this a real person who he was falsely seeing as Euphemia? Guilford felt trapped like an animal. He squeezed his hands tight and felt the nails against his palms. It reminded him of the Geass Lelouch used on him. He almost died to save what looked like his Princess. Was this the same, but with Euphemia? Who would do this to him? What did they want? Perhaps it was an extra Geass, a sick joke from his dead enemy.

He put a hand over his face. He needed help. He knew he should get off the bus, but he couldn't. _'What if she's real?'_ a part of his brain kept repeating. There were too many possibilities and he was clearly panicking. He pulled out his phone to dial Cornelia, but didn't start the call. Anxiety crept further up his chest. What would he even say to explain this? It would upset her greatly. A small whisper in him wondered if the Cornelia answering would be real. What if he was still in the Geass now, after all this time!? It was like a hand on his throat, what was real and what wasn't. He was going to drown in fear. Thankfully, the next stop was the edge of town and the long country lane to his family's home. He stood up automatically, abruptly, and desperate to get away.

 _She stood up as well_

Now Guilford followed a ghost off the bus. He'd never shaken this bad before a battle, wobbling a bit on the steps down. As the bus pulled away he realized he would be alone and was paralyzed. The young woman had her back to him still, sipping from a glass bottle and stretching as she looked down the lane. The ragged soft jacket and hood, a casual pair of shorts and a small duffle bag made the figure of a commoner, but it is the Princess in her posture and movement. Longing and joy flooded him to see it, desperation and fear to see her face. She turned to look around as if it were nothing, and she saw him.

"Guilford!?" She called out, but he couldn't move. It was Euphemia's voice, high and sweet. She leaped toward him, arms wide to embrace, but he jerked backwards, almost stumbling into the rut of the road. It was Euphemia's face, now confused and hurt. Guilford tried to talk, but the words wouldn't come. He couldn't breathe. He must be going mad. After a long moment he found a word, "P-princess," and looked away. He started up the lane, still shaky. He couldn't go very fast. If he lost control he might start running the mile home. She followed, keeping pace on his right.

"What's wrong, Guilford? I know I was gone a long time, but...but I found my way back. I need help, please," she was looking at him, but he couldn't look back. What was this? He needed to get home, get help. She walked quietly a moment, discouraged by his silence.

"I didn't know where to go, who was safe, but I saw on a broadcast, about Pendragon, and this was the only place I could think of to go..." Another silence, but Guilford was too deep into his panic.

"I'm still confused about wh-what happened to me," her voice was breaking, "what did I do? Why can't you look at me?"

He couldn't do it. He just had to make it home before he burned out. He felt the adrenaline rushing. "I don't understand. I don't understand." She stopped and stared after him, but wouldn't be left behind, hurrying to catch up.

"Where is my sister?! Is Cornelia here? At the house? Guilford _please,"_ she was sounding desperate. Guilford couldn't see well in front of him anymore, but it wasn't his shaded glasses. He realized he was crying, his jaw tight. He just had to make it home. She kept on trying. "I want my sister, where is she?" The glass of the bottle in her hand reflected the light as she walked in front of him, trying to catch his eye. She saw him looking at it.

"The ice cream shop on the boardwalk, remember?" she said. "You and Cornelia took me there. I was here all summer the year before middle school. You let me shoot at the bottles with a real gun and Cornelia said…she said it was too dangerous." she waved the half empty bottle at him. He still couldn't look at her face. He was wrong to doubt. It was definitely her, but she must be a ghost sent to torment him. She started babbling nervously about anything, but each word in her voice made Guilford more afraid. He could feel his heart pounding. It should have soothed him to hear her elaborate, but he felt ill. His anxiety-twisted mind made it an insult: he must be insane to have such a complicated delusion. In the waves of her pleading one stood out.

"Do you know where Suzaku is?" The thought of the two of them was too much and his pace quickened. They passed through an arch of branches, a double row of birch trees that led home. She noticed his response. "They say he's dead, Guilford, but I don't understand. How," she broke off in tears, "please Guilford!" Euphemia reached out and grabbed his arm. He flinched away, stopping in his tracks, feeling the blood drain from his face. She got to look him in the eye at last.

He practically ran the last several meters to the door, grasping the metal handle for his life. He could hear her on the gravel behind. Was she real? What was real anymore? He looked back, and he saw Princess Euphemia. Guilford opened the door and stood aside automatically to her as he must have a thousand times in courtesy. She walked in slowly, waiting for him, confused. He looked her in the eye again and realized he was home. It was over.

He bolted away, leaving her behind in the entry, almost toppling a side table, yelling as he ran to the back of the house. "Princess Cornelia!" "Cornelia!" He must have been heard because as he made it to the kitchen, Cornelia burst in from the back lawn, practice sword in hand and sweaty. She would help him, he knew it. She took a step toward him as he pulled at the knot of his tie, gasping, then he turned away to vomit in the sink.

"What happened, Guilford?" Cornelia grabbed onto him as he sunk to the floor. He pointed weakly back to the doorway, an hour of tension finally being released. "Someone there," he said. Her eyes followed his but there was no one to see. Cornelia took her knight's face in her hands. "I'm sorry," he managed, "I don't know what's real. She can't be there." She pulled him into half an embrace, and he sobbed into her shoulder. She smelled real and felt warm.

"I don't understand Guil-"

* * *

"Guilford?" a voice called from the hall. A voice that had Cornelia moving immediately. Guilford looked at her with pleading eyes, but didn't stop her. When she turned into the hall, she immediately understood his distress. Who was this person standing in the doorway to the entry hall? _It couldn't be_. The afternoon sun through the large front windows framed the young woman, her eyes wide in shock. She was ghost. _She was an angel._ Cornelia stepped forward, her body held in a practiced calm. She felt weak.

"Eu- You. Who are you?" Cornelia asked.

"Cornelia?" the girl's voice wavered, "it's me, it's Euphy." She felt faint hearing that voice again.

"This is impossible," she answered.

Cornelia was surprised to find herself angry. This couldn't be real, but the real progress they had made finding peace had been shattered. "Are you a practiced imposter? Is someone paying you, or is this some kind of joke?" she asked.

"No! It's me, Cornelia please, you can see who I am," she flinched when she heard her name. The girl started to reach out a hand to her, but seemed to reconsider.

"We've heard of people like you." She hesitated. It really did seem like Euphy, but how? "My sister has no inheritance. There is no secret money for you to get, whatever the tabloids say. Frankly, this is cruel, and you should leave."

The girl threw down her bag and threw herself at Cornelia. She grabbed the girl's arms, restraining her, but she writhed and started crying. "You know it's me. We're sisters! I don't understand why you're so _cold_." It was a stab in her heart. "You said you wouldn't do that to me, not ever! We wouldn't push each other away, and we would trust each other!" Her resolve snapped. What was she doing? She released Euphy's arms, but instead of running away, her sister wrapped her arms around Cornelia's waist. "They said you would forget about me, like how I forgot things, but I tried to be strong like you. I tried."

She watched the contents of a glass bottle pool on the floor as Euphy clung to her, running her fingers over the younger girl's back. When she tucked her head around Euphy's she realized all her pink hair was really cut off. It didn't even reach her shoulders. A sudden fear seized her, one that she used to be familiar with: fear for Euphy's welfare. A weight she had carried all the time, wondering if her sister was scared, ill, or lonely. It was welcome, though, like an anchor. For a year she had been lost in the chaos of the world. This was a reason to look for order. She heard Guilford behind her, he could probably see Euphy, who had stopped shaking and merely sniffled. His voice came from down near the floor, "I am truly sorry, Your Highness, for my conduct. Your appearance was shocking, but it was my weakness that hurt you. There can be no doubt in your identity, please forgive me."

Was he kneeling? She tried to untangle herself to see. It had been a few weeks since he had pulled a full knightly maneuver. This was the time for it, though, she supposed. Euphy finally loosened her grip, still holding her hand. Guilford was kneeling in military attention, fist over heart. His hair was loose, and his tie was undone, but he still cut a good salute.

"Are you alright?" Euphy asked, wiping her face with her hand, "I'm sorry too, for scaring you. I didn't mean to find you alone like that." Cornelia exchanged a look with her sister, indicating toward her knight. "Oh, you may rise, Lord Guilford." He did, and immediately pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and offered it to Euphy.

"You don't have two of those, do you?" she asked him, wiping her own tears. She was teasing, but knew she shouldn't when he was being so serious. He took her free hand, raised it, and marked the back with a chaste kiss. Now he was teasing her, or maybe he was sincerely possessed by the ghost of chivalry, she couldn't tell. When she noticed Euphy looking at them, she tried not to blush.

A light growl sounded from the younger woman's stomach. It wasn't just the hair, now that the shock was wearing off she saw how travel-worn Euphy was. "Why don't we get you cleaned up and fed. We can talk about how this is possible when we're all rested." Euphy finally smiled.

* * *

A/N: I hope this was an enjoyable read. If you have any comments or ideas about the story I would love to hear them! There will be a broader conflict to the story that should be introduced in the next chapter along with a few O.C.s. Thank You for reading - T


	2. Chapter 2

The tea he had ordered to the drawing room should be ready about now. Guilford pulled his hair back and switched out his shades for clear glasses. The afternoon was turning to evening, so the light wasn't too bad, and he didn't like the way Euphemia looked at them. There hadn't been the right opportunity to explain, as any one thing required the explanation of ten others. He should be used to people staring, but it mattered more that it was her. Cornelia never looked at him with pity, although it had been hard to see either way when they first reunited. No, if she had seen a problem she would have told him he looked weak, but she also took things for what they were a lot of the time. Euphemia tried to look past things, and transform them, and maybe that was what bothered him. He didn't necessarily want to face whatever she was seeing.

He had been the last to clean up after their incident earlier, so when he made his way downstairs the Princesses were already there. Euphemia was nibbling at a piece of sandwich, though it seemed the tea hadn't been poured. She was wearing one of Cornelia's dresses, and he could see that she might have grown a bit. She was closer in height to Cornelia, but the excess fabric draped over her belt awkwardly, showing how thin she was.

"I'm sorry I just couldn't help myself," she said in between bites. They'd been waiting for him.

"I told you it's alright, Euphy. You must be hungry," Cornelia answered for him as he took a seat across the table. He tried to pour the tea, but Cornelia rushed to do that too, so he just watched as the girl devoured her food as fast as good breeding would allow.

"I guess I'd forgotten how hungry I was," she said between mouthfuls, "I ate last night when we arrived in New York, but then I traded my food vouchers for a ticket here."

"Who is 'we', my Lady?" he asked. He shared a look with Cornelia. He wasn't supposed to use titles anymore, but calling Euphemia informally seemed wrong.

"It was a refugee transport taking Britannians from Areas to the Homeland. We were in a float unit aircraft carrier like Schneizel's Avalon, but I think it was Chinese Federation. It was staffed by Britannian military, though. Really strange." She was clearly considering what she said next, eyeing a dish of candied fruit. "I applied for passage saying I was displaced by conflict, but that's just what other people told me to say if I wanted to go. I didn't want to attract attention, so I didn't ask a lot of questions." Guilford arranged a similar program in Area 11 (Japan, he corrected himself) before they left it in the hands of Kaname Ohgi, but that wasn't a joint operation.

"You were in a refugee camp then? But...how did you get out of Japan, and why?" Cornelia asked.

"Oh, I forgot something," she said, placing her teacup down gently and rising, "It will help. I tried to write down everything I could remember." She hurried out of the room, and he heard her running upstairs. He wasn't sure exactly what she meant. Cornelia reached her hand across the table, and he took it in his. Whatever Euphemia said, it was going to be hard for her.

"What matters is that she's here," he said.

"I know."

When Euphemia came back, she had a worn looking notebook in her hands. She turned it toward Cornelia, handling it like the reports she'd written as Sub-Viceroy, and Cornelia turned a few pages before laying it on the table where he could see. There were small notes and diary entries alongside drawings. Different inks, but all the same flowing cursive and well-trained portraiture. There were a few sketches of Kururugi in there, he noticed. The loose papers were pamphlets and news clippings. One was a picture of Cornelia speaking to the crowd while the Black Knights were being freed. It was taped carefully in place.

She turned to a page near the beginning, where some sentences had been written and then scribbled out, with one circled at the bottom: Lelouch at the Special Zone. "It took me a few weeks, but this is the last thing I remember."

"That was when he used his Geass on you, after he requested an audience as Zero." Guilford said. She was so happy to show them that he was sure it was impossible for her to know what happened after. He wasn't sure how to put it. "What's the next thing you remember?"

"I've never been able to figure out if it was just a dream, but I remember Suzaku carrying me, I think." She played with the folded corner of the page. "In the dream, I'm really sad about something, as if someone told me he would be gone forever. It can't be just a dream though, because I have a memento of his. I don't remember him giving it to me…" she trailed off. He looked to Cornelia, and she gave the slightest shake of her head. She would lead, then.

"What we know is that you were wounded after talking to Lelouch. Kururugi _was_ there, but they told us you didn't survive, and your body was sent to the Homeland before I returned to the Tokyo Settlement. But you say you never went to the Homeland?" she asked.

"That's right. The next long while I don't remember much. I woke up in a room with new clothes, and I do remember I had a wound, on my stomach. It was like a prison. They did these tests on me, and some of it was similar to what happened with Lelouch. I would realize I wasn't where I should be, and I never knew anyone's name there, or met any other tested people, but there was this strange boy." she flipped through the pages again to a portrait of a child with long blonde hair, and the the symbol of the Geass Directorate, which she had doodled in the corner. Cornelia laid her hand on the image.

" _Him_! I killed that disgusting imp. He said he was our father's brother. He was a vessel for these Geass powers." She looked like she might tear the page out.

"You're the one who-you killed him!?" Euphemia asked.

"He was taunting me! He spoke of sibling loyalty, and he had you this whole time." she said.

"The center where you found him was destroyed by the Black Knights. She must have been at a second location." he said, trying to redirect Cornelia. V.V. was able to travel around the empire with power given to him by the Emperor. He could have taken her without anyone knowing, but had the Emperor known? Or Schneizel? He had never been able to read the man. He had no doubt Kururugi was ignorant of this plot. Would Lelouch have even gotten as far as he did if Suzaku had known Princess Euphemia was alive somewhere? "Do you know where this other research center was?"

"I don't know exactly, but the first city I was in after escaping was St. Petersburg. I tried to keep all the travel information." Euphy answered.

"Euro-Britannia?" He supposed it wasn't too far, but then V.V. could have just sent her to the Homeland. Thank God they didn't take her to Pendragon.

"Euphy, how _did_ you escape?" Cornelia asked. The girl looked down, subdued. He was reminded of when she was small, pouting outside of Cornelia's rooms when she knew her sister was going to scold her, or hiding when she found out they were deploying to the front lines without her. She was ashamed.

"I didn't know until later, but it must have been when Lelouch killed our father. I kept hearing that 'everything was over'. That boy had been gone a long time, their Director, and I think they weren't sure what to do without him. One of their leaders came to me later, with a box that had my things. He said I could try to leave with him, or stay there. It didn't matter whether it was a trick. I had to try," she said. She paused and took a deep breath.

"The man took me in a train as far as St. Petersburg and abandoned me on the second day. He said he was getting revenge on someone, and that no one would be looking for me. So you see, I never did anything to help myself. I wanted to be strong like you, Cornelia, but I'm not." She was immediately in her sister's arms.

"Don't say that. You survived, and you made it home all on your own. That's strong." Cornelia closed the book with one hand and pushed a plate back toward Euphemia. Seeing her be the doting sister again was a bit surreal. "We can talk about it further when you're ready. Is it ok if I keep this with me?" She pointed at the notebook. The girl nodded.

There was still something he needed to know. He looked Euphemia in the eye. "Did they give you a Geass power?" He asked.

"No, I don't think so."

"Then everything will be fine." He said. She gave him a weak smile from Cornelia's shoulder. She would need to find her strength in the coming weeks. They wouldn't be able to hide her forever.

The door opened, and a maid appeared. "A call from your father, sir." She announced. He turned to his Princess for orders.

"It's not a secure channel," she said.

"So we'll tell him when he gets here. Hopefully he's not bringing Gordon." He sighed, rising to leave. "Excuse me, Princess."

* * *

The news from his father had been unsettling, though he couldn't say exactly how. There had been the expected inquires into his health and whether Princess Cornelia was enjoying her stay. His father still used her title, but many people did despite the dissolution of the aristocratic system. Perhaps it was odd how vague his father had been in their conversation. He was kind in his own way, but usually stern and very scrupulous. He'd told Guilford they were returning tomorrow with guests, but hadn't named anyone. It felt like a trap. If it was, there was no getting out of it. Right now he needed to plan with Cornelia. Euphemia would want more appropriate clothes brought if they had to do this.

His worry began to amplify as he stared out the window from his father's study. Their vacation in the countryside was definitely coming to an end, but he should have realized that the second he saw Euphemia. It was too bad, he hadn't lied to his father when he said they were enjoying their stay. There was an easing of everything: their formalities, their grief, and their sense of urgency for the future. For a day or two, at least, he felt like he had when he was first knighted, back when Cornelia was just his fellow pilot and friend. Everything had been so uncomplicated, and there hadn't been anyone there to demand it be otherwise. They had been right to mark their professional boundaries years ago. One step over, and he knew he wasn't going back.

At least, he wouldn't want to go back. He could never deny Cornelia anything, so maybe he was just lucky up until now, but protecting Euphemia would mean her accepting one of the positions offered by their new Empress. He wasn't about to let her go alone, whether he was still a knight or not. He didn't see how they could operate professionally and carry on like they had been, especially if they were going back to the military. These things shouldn't go unsaid, but they kept going around it, never defining what exactly was going on between them. It was very unlike his Princess, not to cast off weakness.

He'd been taking that as a good sign, even though that made him a fool. Whenever she said she needed him or told him not to go, he knew she wouldn't leave him alone either, but reality would come for him in the middle of the night. He would wake from some nightmare with her in his arms, remembering battles he'd fought, and realize it had been months since he'd tried piloting. What if she said these things to him because she knew he couldn't join her in the next fight? She was training him to stay. No, doubting her was wrong. When had he started doing that?

Through the window he saw her in the garden with Euphemia, laughing about something. Cornelia looked much better smiling. What was he supposed to say to Euphy, about their relationship? He wouldn't know what to say about it. Definitely nothing, he decided. Cornelia should deal with that. When they spotted him, he realized he had been standing at attention, and Cornelia was looking at him with a small frown. He must look like his father, ready to break up their fun. He relaxed and gave a small wave. They should all enjoy today.

* * *

Guilford couldn't sleep that night, so he went out walking the grounds. Cornelia had decided to use her own bedroom instead of his, saying that Euphemia might need her in the night, but he could see she was embarrassed when he tried to kiss her. It was either that or the pizza Euphy had insisted upon for dinner that had him tossing and turning.

It was better outside in the cool summer night. He walked until he was no longer so frustrated, finally settling down on a bench in the garden. From here he could see where the lawns sloped down into woods, and above the moon was rising. The light was so soft it didn't hurt to look, and he could actually see the stars. He still felt a bit lonely, but the crickets he had silenced with his stomping about were back, and he heard an owl calling out. It was soothing.

He closed his eyes, content to fall asleep here if that's what it took, but there was a heavier sound on the pavement behind him, toward the house. Footsteps. He jumped and spun around. It was Euphemia.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I startle you?" She asked.

"It's alright, please," he gestured for her to sit down. She had a cup cradled in her hands. He could see the steam coming off it.

"I couldn't sleep and I saw you walking," she said taking a sip, "are you sure I'm not disturbing you?"

"Not at all, Princess," he answered. They sat in silence a moment, but she seemed unwilling to say whatever she'd come to talk about. He could tell there was something, as she was fiddling her feet into the grass nervously.

"There is something I was wondering," he said, "why did you come here after arriving in the Homeland? You didn't know Princess Cornelia and I would be here." He did think it was odd. She'd apparently spent the last of her money on a bus ride and a soda. That was confidence.

"Well, I had no way of contacting Cornelia without revealing myself, and I was too scared to tell anyone who I am. When I was approved for the refugee transport, I knew it would be better than staying in the Chinese Federation waiting to be found, but the problem was that almost everyone I knew in the Homeland was gone. My whole life was in Pendragon. I knew you probably wouldn't be here but...well, you're Cornelia's knight. If I could just get your family to call you, I knew you'd protect me."

So it wasn't confidence. It was trust, and he was somewhat overwhelmed by it, especially considering his real reaction to finding her alive. She didn't seem to require a response to her explanation, for which he was grateful. She did reach into her jacket for something, which she handed to him. It was an old pocket watch, worn smooth where someone had held it often. He taped on the glass lightly. It was broken.

"It belonged to Suzaku's father. He carried it with him everywhere," she said.

"This is the memento you said you had?" he asked. She nodded.

"It's what I wanted to talk to you about. Cornelia doesn't want to make me sad, but I thought you would understand. He was my...he was my knight. What happened to him, Guilford?" she asked. She was right. It was his responsibility to explain, in the same way he had been compelled to reach out to Kururugi whenever they'd crossed paths. The watch felt heavy and cold.

"Kururugi was a good pilot and ambitious. He became a Knight of the Round by capturing Zero, and avenging you, but he ended up following Lelouch," he said.

"You and Cornelia know Lelouch was Zero?" she asked.

"Yes, and Suzaku found out at some point as well. I'm not sure when he was compelled to work with Lelouch, or why, " he answered.

"I was naive to think I could save Lelouch from the methods he'd chosen, but I agreed with his desire for a better world. Perhaps it's my fault, for bringing Suzaku into it. If they worked together, I hope he found some kind of peace." She was clutching her cup tightly, but was looking up at the stars. He wasn't sure Kururugi was worth her despair, but he could keep that to himself. It was possible that the young man's behavior was a result of Geass manipulation. He preferred that to thinking Suzaku would fight for the man who had tried to kill Euphemia.

"When he returned to Area 11, he was still against violence. He did try to create peace there, for your sake, I think, and he stood by his conviction to fight within the Britannian system. I don't know about personal peace, but his countrymen have what he wanted," he said.

"He wanted me to go to school with him, even though I was the Sub-Viceroy, and after what I did," she said. He couldn't tell if she was crying, but he didn't want to look. He traced the watch with his thumb. So, she did know what Lelouch had made her do.

"I wasn't your fault. Lelouch was a demon," he said.

"But he wasn't always, and who was responsible for his wish to destroy? We all participated in a system that created his hate," she answered.

"Any boy can claim his sin is his father's. Suzaku took responsibility for his actions and ambitions, which made him the better man. Whatever you feel, he never blamed you, so please don't blame yourself."

She seemed to consider what he said. He knew how confusing it was to separate responsibility when Geass was involved. She finished her drink and put the cup on the ground, so he passed the watch back to her. She held it carefully as if it would vanish.

"Do you think he found happiness?" she asked. He briefly considered lying, but Kururugi wouldn't have.

"I'm sorry, Princess. I don't think I ever saw him smile after you were gone. I should have done more for him," he said. He felt her face against his sleeve. She _was_ crying. He could see why Cornelia would avoid this, crying about lost knights.

When she stopped, he picked a flower off the bush next to him and offered it. She picked the petals off one by one, and he listened as she talked about Suzaku. She took another as he told her about Kururugi's time as a Knight of the Round. They continued until she was almost asleep. Everyone had suspected the attachment between Euphemia and her knight, but having it all laid out before him showed just how tragic it was. After he'd seen her safely to bed, he laid in his own, wondering if he'd ever figure out what really happened to Suzaku.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to the people who reviewed. It means a lot when someone leaves a comment. I guess my OCs got pushed to the next chapter. It might be a bit slow paced, but I hope each section will be enjoyable on its own. Please, let me know what you think! - T


	3. Chapter 3

Cornelia was watching her knight across the lawn, tapping at the glass in her hand impatiently with a fingernail. He was speaking with his father, the former general Gladius Guilford, trying to get the older man away from the crowd where they could speak to him about Euphy. Cornelia wouldn't have made it an urgent matter, but Gladius hadn't simply brought along a few close friends as summer guests, as Guilford had thought yesterday. This was practically a ball. There were dozens of people here. She was trying not to get annoyed, but she really wasn't one for idle socializing with strangers.

The two men really did look alike, more than she'd remembered. Gladius' hair was mostly grey, and he would never keep it long like Gilbert's, but they were still quite a pair. It must be the posturing. Guilford had been taught his perfectly stiff mannerisms from his father. She had to remember to call him Gilbert, now that she thought of it, or this could get confusing, but he might not like that. All day he'd been even more rigid than usual, which she attributed to her turning him away last night. It was such a flimsy excuse she'd given him. Euphy wouldn't have cared if she found them together. He didn't seem to have gotten a lot of sleep, and she found him clutching his badge of knighthood in the morning. Guilford hadn't offered much conversation, just formalities they had cast off weeks ago and a lot of thoughtful silence.

She meant to ask him about it, what exactly he was thinking about, but she felt guilty. It was selfish to reject him and then pry into his night, and he would never voice his dissatisfactions without her asking. He wasn't really a knight anymore, despite the badge. Did that trouble him? Or perhaps it was the opposite, that he knew he was no longer bound to her, and was just waiting for the right time to tell her he wanted a career of his own. This whole train of thought was ridiculous, she decided, sipping at her drink. Guilford wouldn't leave her.

"Have you and Lord Guilford enjoyed your return to the Homeland, your Highness?" One of the guests had joined her, a baron from Area 4 if she remembered correctly. He made a half bow and smiled, following her line of sight to see Guilford opposite of them.

"Using my former title is incorrect," she said for the hundredth time that afternoon. She didn't want to seem as if she were going against Nunnally's decision to uphold the abolishment of nobility.

"Of course, but does it really matter if everyone still obeys you?" he asked, so he'd already known. This was going to be a particularly annoying conversation, she could tell. There had been some confusion at the party the first time she denied her title. It was true, no one would go against the former highest ranked person in the room, " _former_ baron Von Hatten, ma'am. I served under your brother Odysseus." He gave her a salute. So, he was a military man.

"I haven't been re-assigned to the military yet, either, so this is all unnecessary," she said.

"But you will be?" asked Von Hatten.

"Is there a more appropriate place you could think to put me?" She returned. Her new position would be carefully crafted to give power without looking like a coronation. She had influence that Nunnally needed, but she couldn't overshadow the girl if people were going to respect her. Von Hatten was looking at her in a way she didn't like, an appraisal. Cornelia looked at the back of Guilford's head, willing him to come rescue her.

"I could think of a place," he finally answered, drawing her eyes back, "I would see you returned to royalty. Britannia needs to be let by the strong."

"I won't tolerate treason against the Empress," she said, calmly. She took another sip of her drink, preparing to say it again with more force. Von Hatten didn't look bothered.

"I didn't say anything against the Empress. I'm only concerned for the welfare of my countrymen. The nobility made our empire the greatest force in the world. You are a natural heir of that system," he said. It was damn close to treason, whatever his justification, but fortunately for him she wasn't the one carrying a gun today. She would have to fight like a noble, then.

"The system is changing, and not every aspect of our society requires force," she said. She walked to one of the seatings set out in the shade, assuming the commanding posture she'd been taught as a princess: back straight, hands folded, and ankles crossed. Naturally, he followed her lead and sat on the opposite side, "We're both soldiers. We should consider ourselves lucky that the world is set on having peace."

"I'm not so certain there will be peace. Especially without at least a show of force," said Von Hatten.

"You understand the Empress is in negotiations as we speak, ensuring peace without violence?" she asked.

"There would be no negotiations if they hadn't been prefaced by violence," he pressed. They weren't getting anywhere, and he was just being irritatingly contrary.

"Get to the point, Von Hatten. I don't care for this back and forth," she commanded. He bowed again, and she looked for the nearest sharp object.

Von Hatten obliged, "I think the foundation of our new, expanded democratic system is flawed. It gives all citizens an equal voice, and as your father said, not all men are created equal. The will of the masses is dangerous because it includes weak men, and I would prefer our political power in more capable hands."

Cornelia had heard of this sentiment, but she didn't understand this extreme need for noble restoration. As long as some checks against mob rule were in place, surely a system based on the people's will would naturally select the most suitable leaders for itself. It followed their Darwinist culture perfectly. Cornelia sighed inwardly, but didn't want to give any indication to Von Hatten that she needed further enlightening. She didn't come here to be harassed by political garbage, and she definitely didn't want to speak about her father. They'd better cut to what was undoubtedly his second point.

"Perhaps you should become a politician, Von Hatten, with the passion you have for these ideas, but then you'd have to consider appealing those weak elements," she suggested. He leaned forward, not put off by her tone somehow.

"It's something that I've considered. I do enjoy some preliminary support, even among the other guests here. You may find their views on it more...palatable," he said, but she doubted very much that she would put up with another conversation like this. What did a bunch of landless barons know about her responsibilities in the world they wanted to go back to. It was also quite a thing to say in the home of a man who had never been given a hereditary title. The Guilfords were weak commoners. He may not have meant that insult, but Cornelia didn't like the implication.

"Do you find the Guilford estate run by the weak?" she asked. Von Hatten smiled, clearly he'd prepared something for that, but then he suddenly looked away, uncomfortable. She felt a hand on the side of her shoulder, Guilford's. _Finally_. She shifted to see where he had come up behind her seat unnoticed.

"Is he bothering you, my Lady?" asked Guilford, directing a frown at Von Hatten, who saw it was time to go. He rose elegantly.

"A princess who isn't a princess, guarded by a knight who isn't a knight," he pulled a pamphlet from his jacket, which he offered to her, Pureblood propaganda by a different name. "the curiosities of this world are many. I will always be at your disposal, your Highness." It was an invitation and a threat. He bowed a third time, then left.

"What was that about?" Guilford asked her as she passed the flyer to him, reading it for himself.

"More problems I'd rather not deal with," she sighed. She hoped they wouldn't put her in charge of these domestic affairs. She lifted a hand up to Guilford's where it was at her shoulder, covering it for an appropriate moment. She should've appreciated last week's solitude more. Guilford flipped the flyer over, reading the back, but she did get a gentle squeeze of her fingers before he removed his hand. When he folded the paper into his jacket, he stared across the lawn, thinking again.

"Do you think it's worth another try at your father?" she asked him. She wished he would look at her, so she could see if he was still playing the stiff royal guard.

"No, he won't listen to me. It might have to be after dinner," Guilford answered, and when she looked up he was frowning again. He knew Euphy wouldn't want to stay in her room all day.

"Well then, I think it's getting too hot out here," she declared, getting up from her seat. There was no point in staying.

"Of course, Princess," Guilford took her meaning and offered an arm, leading them toward the house. She gave him a sidelong look for the title, but that one had been a joke.

As they passed through the crowd, Cornelia found herself thinking of Viletta's wedding. That event was about this size, but it had been a lot more fun. There had been the quaint kind of dancing that commoners did, and the company had been more interesting. Despite being surrounded by their former enemies, they'd had a good time. Maybe too good of a time, but certainly more than this chore. Their time in Japan after the liberation hadn't been so bad, all things considered, almost relaxing. It was only when they reached the Homeland that she felt the tension starting to build again, the closer they got to the new capital.

"Guilford?" she realized why she thought of the wedding.

"Hmm," he responded. He really was hopeless today.

"Is that the suit you wore to Viletta and Oghi's wedding?" but no, as she asked she remembered, it was just the vest...She'd been grabbing at it when she fell backward onto Guilford's bed, the first time in years. She could feel herself starting to blush.

"No," Guilford answered, glancing down at himself, then at her, "maybe my-" He started to smile when saw her face, raising an eyebrow. He figured it out. She hadn't meant to do that, but it was nice to see him not brooding. Whatever it was, he wasn't upset with her.

"The new buttons look nice," she said pointedly.

" _Thank you_."

When they made it inside, he didn't release her arm, but led them to a deserted sitting room and pressed her against the wall by the door, looking pleased, and lowered his mouth to her neck. Cornelia grabbed at that vest again, but over Guilford's shoulder she saw a face, unnoticed, crouched by the window. A familiar face.

"Gordon!" she managed, startling Guilford away, "you…look well." Gilbert's oldest brother looked very sober compared to their previous interactions, so it wasn't a lie. His golden curls were more purposefully disheveled, and he'd trimmed his beard. He still had the same smug grin, which he was directing at his brother.

"You look as lovely as I remember, Cornelia," he said, standing. He ignored Guilford's glaring.

" _Do_ you remember?" she asked, pretending confusion as she pulled at her blouse, making sure she still looked decent.

"Hey, I got clean a while ago, not that Gilbert would've mentioned it. Besides, your beauty could never be dulled by any controlled substance," Gordon said, coming forward and taking her hand for a kiss, but Guilford intervened.

"Don't start a fight, Gordon," he warned. Gordon shifted to an attempted handshake, which Guilford rejected.

"I missed you too, brother. I'm sorry I didn't come outside to say hello, but I didn't want our emotional reunion ruined by all those terrible people. Thanks for bringing him back, Cornelia." She wasn't sure which parts in there were a joke, so as with all of their interactions, she left it between the brothers. The problem was Gilbert's cold stare, and Gordon's suggestive looks between them. There was some silent battle going on there, but Gordon always had the upper hand since he cast off whatever manners their father taught them.

"Is _this_ what you've been trying to talk to Father about?" Gordon gestured between them, breaking the stalemate, "I saw you trying to drag him away earlier. The problem is he never thinks to lecture _you_ , Gilbert, so he won't take your invitation seriously."

He leaned in close and looked Cornelia in the eye, lowering his voice, adding, "I should thank you twice over. Maybe he'll finally relax." She was starting to understand Guilford's feeling about him.

Before he could say more, Guilford pulled his brother in for a hug, though the clap on the back he gave Gordon may have been a little hard. There were no words of brotherly affection between them, but Gordon was nodding when they pulled apart.

"I'll help you then, but you'd better introduce me later to that lovely young lady upstairs," he said to Guilford, and with a bow to Cornelia he opened the door. Cornelia went to get a drink, for both of them. Euphy said she would stay in her room. When she returned, Guilford looked resigned, arms crossed as he watched Gordon's conversation with Gladius through the window. He took half the glass in one gulp.

"My mother is right. It's easier if you just give him what he wants," he said. Great, he was going to start brooding again.

"He seems healthier than before, at least," she said. She wasn't sure why she was defending Gordon at all. He'd been a terrible brother. It must have been residual guilt from this morning. Guilford gave her a strange look. So he'd noticed, then. Whatever Gordon was saying was making Gladius uneasy, and Cornelia wondered if this really counted as helping. She saw the older man spotted them, and he frowned. It was the same as Guilford's.

Gladius turned away, and Gordon gave them a wink before disappearing himself. Thankfully, it was only Gladius who entered the room a few minutes later.

"I understand you have something serious we need to discuss," Gladius said, not bothering to sit. She did feel like she was about to be lectured.

"What did Gordon say to you?" Guilford asked.

"I won't dignify what he said by repeating it, especially in front of the Lady," Gladius answered. He was entirely the gentleman, but he looked uncomfortable, which she had never seen in him before, "what do we have that can't wait until tonight, or tomorrow?"

* * *

Guilford had been right when he told her his father would be helpful. Gladius didn't need an explanation of Euphy's disappearance. He had outright refused to hear it when she tried to offer any context. He was a smart man, and had learned when to avoid the entanglement of drama from the nobility. His support was another matter, renewing his loyalty to her family, but his language was careful, avoiding a pledge to royalty. She did appreciate having some royal cooperation again. He would make sure Euphy had the means to be presented correctly, and would end the festivities tomorrow to keep her hidden.

Cornelia still wondered what Gordon had said to his father. Gladius had clearly expected to discuss something else, and, after arrangements for Euphy had been settled, he'd planned a time after dinner to talk to Guilford in his study. She had thought to insist on joining them, suspecting they were talking about her, but it was only then that she found a moment to slip away and check on Euphy, so she would have to ask about it later.

In the bustle of staff for the party, no one noticed the several extra that had arrived to fix Euphy's hair and fit her with new clothes. Cornelia hoped her sister hadn't been too lonely through the day, but it wasn't the worst prison. She was more worried about what Euphy may have read or seen in the news. Each time they talked, her sister had more questions about the terrible things that had happened during her absence, so it was with tiredness and guilt again that Cornelia didn't stop her when she chose a different topic of conversation.

"You've spent a lot of time with Guilford," Euphy said. Undressed and arms raised up, she was being measured by one of the maids.

Cornelia was picking out some of the clothes that had already been brought. She handed a blouse to the other maid to keep, and rolled her eyes "Of course I've spent a lot of time with him. He's my knight," she said.

Euphy gave her a small smile and a mischievous look clarifying, "I mean today. Every time I saw you outside you were with him."

"You were watching me through the window?" Cornelia asked, giving Euphy a knowing look, and she noticed the maids exchanging a fun glance. There must have been a sort of party up here, too. At least Euphy seemed happy, which was her biggest concern. She was even giggling on her next remark.

"There wasn't much for us to do, and everyone looked like they were having fun. Events in the country are so cute," she said. When she had on one of the dresses they'd picked out, she did a small twirl. It was simpler than her previous preference for frills and flowers, as was her short hair. She looked older, but more elegant. A young lady fit for court. She reminded Cornelia of their mother, but before she could get sad about it, Euphy was giggling again.

"I saw him kiss you in the garden," she said, and Cornelia blushed. They had definitely been hidden from the other guests, but she'd wanted to avoid running into Gordon before dinner, and Guilford had enthusiastically agreed. It had been more than just a kiss, and by the way Euphy was looking at her, she knew that. Her sister was lucky that she was too happy Euphy was alive to get upset, but she was embarrassed.

"Euphy, you shouldn't talk about things like that in front of other people," she said, trying to chastise her, but it was clearly too late. Spying _and_ gossiping.

"I think it's cute! Besides, all the servants must know by now anyway, right?" Euphy asked one of the maids, but the other girl clearly didn't want to get put against Cornelia, who dismissed them. She was sure they'd be back later, or maybe Euphy would end up in the servant's hall. It shouldn't matter. It's not as if the staff were beneath her anymore, but some privacy would be nice. When they'd left, Euphy dropped onto her bed on top of all the clothes that had been laid out, looking at her upside-down.

"You always said it wasn't like that, and you never kept secrets like this from me," Euphy was trying to pout, but it was clearly still too amusing. She gave up and laid down next to her, and Euphy smiled.

"You were seven when we met, so you can hardly blame me," she countered. Euphy had been so small then, of course she didn't know everything about what'd happened, and it never seemed appropriate to mention later.

"What? So how long has this been going on?" her sister asked, hugging a pillow and bouncing a bit. She must have been waiting for this all afternoon.

"Since the war ended, that's all. We decided to stay professional years ago," Cornelia said firmly, then realized she was contradicting herself. Euphy latched on to the latter statement.

" _Years_ ago! Is that why you never accepted the engagements Mother made for you?" Euphy gasped.

"No!" she said, but Euphy hit her with the pillow, "Maybe, but I had plenty of reasons besides that. We had a job to do, Euphy. It wasn't like that." She must have sounded more solemn than she'd intended, and Euphy seemed subdued.

"Has he asked you to marry him, with the way things are-" Cornelia threw the pillow back at her, and Euphy laughed. Euphy always went so far, knowing she wouldn't get mad. It was good to see her still so confident, even if it was annoying. It was none of Euphy's business, but thinking about that was exciting in a way she hadn't felt in a long time, ponderings she'd packed away to not be weak.

"Is it really a secret?" Euphy asked instead.

"Not from you," Cornelia assured her. It was nice to have someone to talk to about it, if it wasn't too awkward for Euphy, "so what do you think?"

"Well, we're going back to court soon aren't we?" asked Euphy, and she was serious this time. They were going to court, after a fashion, "but we never know when the people we love will be gone forever...I don't know sister, you're the one with plans." Euphy did see the problem, and Cornelia supposed she was referencing Suzaku.

"Kururugi was a good knight for you," she said, and Euphy hid in the pillow a moment, but she wasn't going to cry. Cornelia brushed back the hair in Euphy's face. That could have been her, not just because of the F.L.E.I.J.A, but countless other times. She decided to stay and gossip until Euphy would be laughing again, anything to bolster her spirits. Tonight they could talk about the happy things Euphy missed, whatever she could think of, instead of facing the troubles ahead.

* * *

A/N: So I'm hoping to make the chapters a bit longer as I keep going. When I changed this chapter I tried to make it a little longer and flow better, but I'm still out of practice. Let me know what you think. - T


	4. Chapter 4

Late the next morning, Guilford was sitting alone on the stairs in the entry hall, casually flipping through the pages of Euphemia's notebook. Father hadn't stopped glaring at him since their talk alone yesterday, so he was hiding like a scolded child. A frustration was building from their disagreement, and he was trying to keep it from Cornelia because it would only make the rest of their stay here awkward. When he'd explained his intentions regarding the Princess, his father had gone into a full lecture on weak character and family obligation, and ordered him to end this 'inappropriate affair'. He felt through his jacket for the badge he knew was still there. Obviously, there was no way to end things. After a tense breakfast, Cornelia cornered him in a hallway, looking guilty again and close to asking him about it, but instead she handed him the notebook to analyze.

He found a page with a drawing of Darlton that was peculiar, but had to flatten the book to see it. The man was kneeling, and looking at the ground, but his right side was missing, disappearing into the spine of the page. According to the notes, Euphemia had tried to remember the time she was under Lelouch's Geass. Such a thing was supposed to be impossible, but even he had some memories. They were more like impressions, a sense of dread, nightmares he couldn't recall. He hesitated, not wanting to turn the page to her experience of the phenomenon, but when he did it was fairly sterile. The only other picture was Suzaku again, and there were marks where she must have kept tapping the page, thinking.

"They're almost here," said Cornelia, coming down the stairs behind him. She was wearing a skirt again today, a dress actually, knee-length and light blue. The sandals must have been Euphemia's idea. He was probably overthinking it, but sometimes he wondered if she wore these things for him. When she reached the bottom, she was level with his face, taking a look at the page he was on.

"I'm worried about her getting over Kururugi," she said quietly, seeing the portrait of Suzaku. Guilford was worried too. One night of talking wasn't going to solve what Euphemia had told him. He closed the book gently and handed it to Cornelia. It should be put away.

"As long as she still talks about him, I think it will work itself out. She's young," he said. She was too young to be burdened forever by this.

"How old were we when we met?" Cornelia asked. About the same age, she had a point. She looked him over, fiddling with his collar and tie, a civilian uniform inspection, "are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?" She was worried about him, too.

Guilford heard cars on the drive outside. He'd been waiting for his mother to arrive with his second oldest brother, Gale. When he and Cornelia returned to the Homeland, his brother had planned a week to come home as soon as possible, and he was looking forward to having a buffer against Gordon. He should be fine meeting them by himself. Cornelia would introduce them to Euphemia when the reunion settled down.

"I'm alright, you should go," he assured her. His smile was bigger than he intended, and hearing the commotion outside was more exciting than he remembered from his previous visits. Cornelia gave him a last squeeze of his hand before leaving. He walked to the door and prepared himself for the bright light he was about to walk into. There were familiar voices sounding from the other side.

Several meters away the cars had parked, and there they were. Guilford had intended to wait at the doorway, but he saw his mother, and found himself bounding forward, as fast as he could without running.

"Oh, Gilbert! It's so good to see you," she said, folding him into a tight hug, "we're so glad you're back safe." She might have been crying a little. She hadn't done that since he returned from his first campaign years ago, and she was smaller than he remembered. He watched over her head as Gale got out of the car, followed by his wife, Anne. Gale gave him a small smile. He looked exhausted, and the apparent cause of it was being helped out of the car by her nanny.

"Grandpa!" the little girl, Liza, ran across the gravel to his father, who'd been told of the arrival. She didn't even notice him, but that was expected. The last time he saw her she couldn't run, much less talk. He heard her squealing behind him as his father picked her up, laughing, and was strangely jealous for a moment. Father had always been so serious with him and his brothers. Maybe it was because she was a grandchild, or a girl? Whatever the case, it was immature of him to feel that way. It was probably just because his father was upset with him.

When his mother was satisfied that he wasn't going to disappear, she stepped back, but continued to hold his arm. Gale gave him a long hug of his own, and Anne a kiss on the cheek, both of them happy to see him. They couldn't stop looking at him, but smiles all around was a welcome change. Anne's voice broke a bit greeting him, which surprised him, not that they weren't on friendly terms, but he didn't see her that often. He stopped thinking about his family's worry for him a while ago, as it never helped a situation, but he hadn't considered it this strong. She noticed his confusion.

"Don't mind me. I've been crying at everything still somehow, even four months out," she said. He wasn't sure what she meant until the nanny walked around the car again with a baby. He vaguely remembered his brother telling him about the pregnancy, but when was that? She must have given birth when they were underground with the Black Knights. Anne was usually understanding, probably just out of unfamiliarity, but Gale might be put off that he was that disconnected.

"He looks...big," he said, which he thought was true, but wasn't sure if that was what you were supposed to say about babies. It worked whenever they'd sent him a picture of Liza. He hoped he was right about it being a boy.

"He is. He's growing so fast I can't believe it. You were all so small as babies, Gilbert," his mother said, and Anne was pleased, so that was alright, then.

"Let's go inside, so he can properly meet him. Liza too," said Gale. Anne hurried in with him, nanny trailing. Gilbert stayed to escort his mother, who was lingering and staring at him. She was looking at his shaded glasses.

"Are they terrible? I know you told your father it wasn't a problem, but are you ok?" she asked. Her concern was so comforting and unearned. He missed it more than he'd realized.

"They don't hurt that much. I'm ok," he answered, trying to reassure her. She put a hand to his cheek briefly, the same as she'd done when he was small. She was used to stoicism after four sons.

"My boy," she said and pulled him toward the house, "I'm sorry I didn't come with your father. I know you and Gordon don't always get along, but I didn't want to go to his wretched party. Those people he's been around in New York are terrible. Spoiled aristocrats with nothing to do, so they make trouble. I don't know how so many of them are friends of his." He was glad someone else agreed with him about that party. The passive aggressive campaigning by the Purebloods had ruined dinner last night, but he wasn't getting in the middle of his parents' fight, especially now. She anticipated his response.

"I know you won't disagree with him, but I'll just say I was actually glad when it was all over. You get to come home, and we don't have to throw our lives at the nobility now. I was so tired of it," she said. Five minutes after reuniting didn't seem like a good time to tell her that he'd be going away again with 'nobility'. He wondered what she'd think when it was explained by Father.

When they entered the sitting room, his parents sat together, and he settled for the chair next to Gordon, who had Liza on his knee. She seemed happy to be there. Gilbert had no idea Gordon had been allowed around the child so much. Gale wouldn't have allowed it without Gordon being clean, so he would have to believe his oldest brother's insistence about that. Gordon turned the girl towards him.

"Do you remember Uncle Gilbert? We saw him on the television," Gordon asked her. He couldn't think of anything he would be on a screen for that would be appropriate for a child. He didn't want to be awkward like with the baby, but she helped by flopping forward a tiny hand, palm down like a little lady, and the family laughed. He gave her hand a tiny kiss, and she smiled.

"Will you teach me to ride a knightmare, Uncle?" she asked. That must have been on the TV too. Her eyes were so big, and he could see now why his father was so warm with her. At the very least, Father seemed proud of her interest, not mad at him for once this morning.

"I think you should ask your father. He knows how to pilot one," he told the girl. She turned her big eyes back to Gale, who made a face of mock anger.

"I'd be a terrible teacher, but you're still not big enough to learn, Liza," Gale said. His niece looked undefeated.

"I could watch. Did you bring it with you?" Liza asked him. Cornelia would like her, but he wasn't going to go against Gale in parenting.

Anne saved him from finding a way to put her off. "Why don't you show him your brother?" she asked, walking over with the baby. Liza hopped down as the bundle was placed in his arms. It had been a long time since he'd held a baby. The boy was squirming a bit as his sister tugged at his blanket, trying to get an uncoordinated hand into her curls.

"This is Michael. He's very loud," she said. Gilbert laughed. He understood the sentiment. He looked over at Gordon, who seemed very pleased with his stiff posture around the baby, but Gordon also looked unusually calm. He was so different from the last time they'd seen each other, even if the teasing was the same, and Cornelia was right that he looked healthy. Gilbert had missed more than he thought over the past two years.

"You look good with the baby. You know, they were thinking of naming him Gilbert for a while," his mother said. Gale looked embarrassed, and Anne grabbed her husband's hand.

"By the time he was born we'd decided on Michael. It was just a passing idea when we were talking about...where you might be," Anne told him. _Oh._ She would've still been pregnant when he went missing after Tokyo. Now he was embarrassed. They must have downplayed their concern when he contacted them. He watched Liza climb onto his father's lap with her toys. It was strange that he hadn't gotten a talk about all the trouble he'd caused.

"It was a nice thought, but Michael is much better," he said.

"Prettier too, let's hope," Gordon joked, trying to break the tension. As Gilbert shifted in his seat, his nephew got a hold of his ponytail. His tiny face of concentration was exactly like Gale's.

"So, are you about ready to dash off again? You never seem to stay in one place long," Anne asked him.

"It's not all settled, but we'll be leaving for the capital in a few days," he answered.

"That's right, Father said Cornelia was here?" asked Gale, as if it were a casual question, but gave him a knowing look. Being teased by both brothers wasn't what he wanted out of today, but it had to be brought up anyway, since he needed to tell them about Euphemia.

"Yes, we came here from Japan a week ago," he said. Anne came to save him from the tugging on his hair, taking Michael back with her.

"Will she be joining us? I don't know what's...appropriate, with her position I mean," she asked.

"She'll join us for lunch with her sister," his father answered plainly.

"The Empress!?" Mother exclaimed. She dropped the doll Liza had set in her hand.

"No...Euphemia is here. She arrived the day before yesterday," he said. There was an awkward silence.

"I was not told about this," his mother said. Her annoyance at his father was clearly coming back.

"I thought she was, well, deceased," Gale said with confusion, looking to see if Liza had noticed, but she seemed more concerned with her toys and climbing all over the couch.

"Apparently not," Gordon said to Gale, who raised his eyebrows and looked away.

"But after that _incident_ she started, is it really safe, especially for the children?" Gale asked. The massacre princess. Anne looked worried at that, and his mother seemed speechless. Euphemia wouldn't hurt anyone, but he couldn't explain Geass. If Gale knew, would he distrust Gilbert too? He could feel himself slipping back into that combative mood his father had put him in earlier.

"We only just found her, Gale, and she's a child herself. She's harmless. That was all a misunderstanding," he tried to explain. He ran a hand through his hair, and realized it was messed up by the baby. He tugged at the tie to fix it, a little frustrated.

"If Gilbert says it's safe, then it is. Worrying about an unrelated-" his father was cut off.

" _Really_ , Gil?" Gale said, leaning forward and gesturing to Gilbert's jacket. As he had lifted his arms to fix his hair, his gun must have shown. Liza had looked up at her father's raised voice. He wondered if she even knew what it was, but also felt immediately guilty. Either way, if they were yelling she might get scared.

"I want the children taken out." Gale called for the nanny, who dragged away the whining girl along with her brother. She wanted to stay with her grandpa. They waited for his explanation.

"It's my job," he said simply. It didn't feel as good of an excuse as yesterday with the crowd.

"You had a gun inches from my son's head!" Gale said.

"You're overreacting, as if there aren't dozens of weapons in the house," he replied. They hadn't been much older than Liza when Father had started training them for military service. Just because Gale had gotten out of it didn't mean he could act like an oblivious civilian. His niece would probably be practicing with that junk knightmare they had in the garage in a few years. What did Gale think those things were for?

"It is rude, though. Anything dangerous in the house is secured away. Gladius, did you tell him he could do this?" his mother asked. His father didn't answer. Gale had started some odd half-pacing out of frustration, and Anne was staring off uncomfortably.

"It is secure, it's with me. First he's scared of a girl, and now you think I'm going to shoot my family," he complained.

"You and Father say everything is fine, but you carry a gun. You don't see how that looks? What _were_ you thinking to use it for?" Gale asked.

"It's classified," he answered.

"Everything is always classified with you," Gale said angrily.

"Everything _is_ classified." They didn't understand. It was his job to protect. They'd never complained before.

"The kid isn't scary, but what are you afraid of?" Gordon agreed with Gale. "We _are_ your family. Maybe you should think about that. You should be safe with us." Gilbert stood up, ready to face both of them, but unsure what about. They wanted him to stand down, but he couldn't. He could feel his anxiety coming back, an annoying emotion he hadn't pushed off since Tokyo.

"Enough!" his father shouted at them. Anne left the room. Lunch was going to be terrible, "I want the three of you in my study. Now go, I have to talk to your mother." Gale stormed off and Gordon dragged him into the hall. He shrugged off his brother's arm to storm off himself. He was angry that they were in the right. Who was he going to shoot? He was with his family at their home, and the gun was like a lack of trust. Cornelia had even said he was being paranoid, but maybe he was just looking for a fight. His whole life was fighting, and the reason he was even here now was this vigilance and a lot of luck, so it was mostly habit. He couldn't use excuses like that, though, not with the people who cared about him. He was angry that they were right to be worried.

...

"He still has it on," said Gale petulantly when their father joined them in the study. They had reported as ordered. Gilbert sighed and stood up, throwing his jacket onto the chair and taking off his harness. Nobody said anything when when he slammed the whole thing onto their father's desk, making a point to not look at Gale.

"Now that Gilbert is back in the Homeland, we need to talk about the family," Gladius said, ignoring them, "the Empire is in political turmoil, and I want a unified front." It was the beginning of a familiar lecture that never solved anything.

"Do we really have to do this again?" Gordon asked. He was flipping a cigarette case in his hands, but he couldn't light up in here.

"Yes, we do. First, I want this fighting to stop, and I don't want any disrespect toward Cornelia or Euphemia. I've already talked to your brother about it," Gladius said, indicating Gilbert, "when she returns to government, we're going to support her."

Gordon looked uninterested. "Yeah, you mean Gil is going to support her. I warned him you weren't going like that _thing_ he has going on." Gibert punched his brother in the arm, and Gordon acted like it didn't hurt, which was infuriating. Perhaps if Gordon hadn't said all those ridiculous things yesterday, they could have found a better way of telling Father.

"That's the disrespect I was talking about, and I don't want to hear any more about it. The three of you had better work out whatever is going on. You're brothers, and what just happened isn't worth this frustration," Gladius said. He was shuffling through some papers, and handed a stack to Gale, continuing to address Gordon, "Either you or Gale needs to consider a political position when the elections are announced. This could be a step forward for us." Gilbert failed to see the point in all this. Gordon would never made a good public official. His father wasn't even speaking to him, as if this was just a demonstration of how he was a worse son than everyone else.

"Then why do we have to support Cornelia? After all the problems with the last Emperor, we could just go to the people's side. We never had a hereditary title," Gale said, shoving some of the papers at him. It was information on the new political map of New York, and the capital there, but not his department. He passed them to Gordon.

"Nobility aside, she's still one of the most powerful people in the Empire. What's left of the aristocrats want her to protect them, and they have the money. For all we know, she could convince her sister to reinstate all the titles tomorrow. Until things settle, we need the connection," Gladius explained.

"We're hedging our bets?" Gale asked.

"That explains all that Pureblood bullshit last night," Gordon said.

"We've always cultivated options. It's why you two were allowed to go into the private sector," Father said to his brothers. They talked over the details of political office, but Gilbert's mind wandered off. For all the teasing about his feelings, they were engaging with their father's ideas, where Cornelia was a means to an end. They didn't understand that he was genuine in his desire to be with her, and that it wasn't going to be a power maneuver. He'd accepted living for her, and come close to dying for it. They should consider in their plans that whatever the political result, he wasn't about to leave her. He couldn't lose her again.

"What did she think of the Purebloods, Gilbert?" his father asked, actually inviting him into the conversation.

"I don't like them. They could cause trouble that nobody needs," he said.

"But what does Cornelia think?" His father pressed. He sighed.

"You should ask her," he said. There was that glare, again. He thought it was pretty obvious from the way she kept putting them down at dinner yesterday, and Gibert wasn't going to be his spy, especially after all this hostility. If they cared about him, they should speak openly with Cornelia. She actually wanted them to like her, as rare as that was for her, and they didn't even appreciate it.

"Did you settle what we talked about yesterday?" His father continued. There it was, the real reason he'd been included here. Gilbert could put on a general's glare too, and he did.

"We haven't discussed the details," he said, not looking away.

"You've been too _busy_?" Gordon joked with that annoying smile. It was almost admirable how nothing deterred his brother.

"I think I'm done here," he said, rising. His father looked annoyed, but he didn't care. The reason he hadn't been lectured as much as Gordon wasn't that he was a favorite. It was that he didn't need to be told things twice, and his father had made his wishes clear.

"Fine," Father dismissed him. He left his jacket behind.

* * *

Gilbert was out in the bright sunlight before he'd given himself a chance to think about how bad of an idea it was. His eyes were aching with the sudden change, but he didn't care, forging ahead over the lawn and into the garden. He was rubbing at his face under his glasses, feet taking him down familiar paths he didn't need to see, kicking at rocks and scaring the groundskeeper. Somehow, he'd lost control of every aspect of today in less than an hour.

This problem with his father wasn't new. It was the same way when he'd been knighted off the career track, but even less worthwhile. Before, it had been all about getting the family into the nobility because for some reason, after a dozen generations, they hadn't given up on class mobility. Now, it didn't even matter! Father's goal in life had been wiped away with the titles, and he had to take that out on Gilbert. His attachment to Cornelia hadn't been appropriate or convenient, but it wouldn't hurt his father to be happy for him for something besides just being alive.

He arrived at his destination, a plain wooden gate set in a high hedge, and pulled it open roughly, rushing into the shade within. The paved area was dominated by an old oak tree, and at the base of the tree was a small plaque. He wiped at his face, taking off his glasses. It was too hot out, even in here. He approached the roots and crouched down, not wanting the benches that had been installed, and slowly reached out to touch the stone marker, a memorial to Gregory Guilford. His brother wasn't really here, he'd been shot down over Spain eight years ago, never recovered, and he wasn't coming back like Euphy.

Gregory wouldn't have teased him, but he would've told Gilbert he was being an idiot and made him fix things with Father. Gilbert hated that he would forget sometimes, that now he'd go days and nothing would remind him of his younger brother, but he was a whole different person from the one he was then. That was why he was here, and everything was going wrong. His grip on the stone edge tightened, until it was almost cutting into his hand. He was someone different again, someone who didn't trust his family. He'd been weak lately, and perhaps even Greg would have hated that.

Gilbert didn't hear the footsteps outside until the gate slammed open again. He jumped up, spinning around.

"Gilbert," it was Gale, panting a bit as if he'd been running, "come back to the house, please."

"I don't want to deal with Father anymore today," Gilbert said. He didn't want Gale bossing him around either.

"Look, I'm sorry about getting upset earlier," Gale said, taking a step toward him, and glancing at the plaque. He knew what his brother was thinking, that it could've been him, "we're worried about you, that's all."

It was the same as with his mother earlier, unhidden concern, and the idea that they didn't mean to hurt him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to punch Gale or cry. Gale grabbed his arm and dragged him over to one of the benches, forcing him to sit down. He didn't have to accept the apology, that didn't matter.

"You shouldn't baby him," said Gordon, who had come by at a more leisurely pace. Gordon leaned against the tree by Gilbert's side and took his cigarette case out, offering one.

"Those will kill you," he said, his head falling into his hands. He just needed to calm down. That should be second nature with Gordon around.

"So will being a soldier," Gordon replied, considering their location before lighting up, then reaching into his other pocket to pull out a small flask, "here." Gilbert _would_ accept that. He took a drink, and Gordon clapped him on the back.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gale asked, reaching out for the flask himself.

"Being a soldier? Not really," he said, rolling up his sleeves. It was so humid, and his eyes still ached. Talking to them about it wouldn't help anything. They didn't understand. He found himself staring at Gregory's marker again.

"Mother thinks that's why you're upset. She says you're traumatized," said Gordon wryly, following his eyes to the base of the tree.

"Of course, nothing but shell shock could make me walk out on Father's annoying lectures," he answered. His brothers laughed.

"He told us," Gale said, grabbing at Gordon's jacket for a cigarette, "he told you to stop fucking your commanding officer."

"Fuck you," Gilbert replied, taking another drink. It was just like Father to spend the time he was gone complaining about him.

"Are those the words he used yesterday?" asked Gordon, smiling at him, "did he say that when you had a gun?"

"He wouldn't have said anything at all if you hadn't started it," he said pointedly, a warning. Gordon didn't care to listen.

Gale had lit up as well adding, "Considering the last Emperor, she's not the _worst_ one in the family to sleep with. Father shouldn't have been so hard on you." They were laughing again. He got up off the bench, and paced away. Gale looked a bit bothered by his distress, but Gordon had intended it.

"Is the other stuff Father said true? You wanted her to not go to the capital and just stay here or whatever?" Gale asked. It was none of their business, and he hadn't asked Cornelia to do anything. He told his father that he wanted to find a way out of the military for them, if she'd have him, but his brother made it sound desperate and stupid. He'd avoided talking with Cornelia about their relationship because of his insecurity, that he was weak to want her to choose him over their job, and that was probably for the best because he already knew her answer.

"It's a bad idea, Gil," said Gordon, flicking the cigarette away, "royals don't stay. She seems alright, but she'll drop you."

" _Why_ are you like this!?" Gilbert asked, rushing towards him, but Gordon looked smug.

"I'm not wrong. I'm helping you, and you know what I'm talking about. She abandoned you for a year already," his oldest brother leaned into him. Gordon wasn't joking anymore.

"I liked you better when you were high," he jabbed, not moving. He finally got a rise out of Gordon, who went from amused to angry.

"Did you?" Gordon asked, shoving him backward.

There was a charged silence, and then they moved. Gilbert had an excuse to punch him again, in the jaw this time. Gordon jumped at him, tackling him to the ground and pulling at his shirt. Some of the buttons came off, and his shirt hung open. Gale was shouting at them to stop, but he didn't care. He had it coming. Gordon was on top of him, lining up a fist, but Gilbert dove up, wrapping his arms around and flipping them over. He pinned his brother down, but then Gale was trying to pull him off. As Gordon slipped away, he kneed Gilbert in the stomach, but Gilbert managed to trip him, scrambling to get another hit in. All three brothers were on the ground.

"You're such an _asshole_ ," he said as he pushed Gordon's shoulders down, trying to pin him again, and then-

"Guilford!"

He froze, and Gordon shoved him off. It was Cornelia, standing in the gateway. She had a stern command face, and behind her was Claudio somehow, in full uniform, the last Glaston Knight.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, but no one answered. Gilbert could feel his face flushing. This was disgraceful. She turned her head back to Claudio and jerked it toward them. The younger man walked over and extended a hand to Gilbert, helping him up, then his brothers. They were dusting themselves off, but it wasn't much use.

Cornelia didn't have anything else to say, and stomped back through the gate. He exchanged a look with Claudio, who shrugged, and they went after her. Gordon and Gale could figure themselves out.

When they caught up with her, she didn't slow down or acknowledge them, and they fell in step behind her. She was angry. Guilford fumbled with his remaining buttons as they marched forward, throwing the shirt onto his shoulder. His undershirt would do until he could get inside.

"We don't have time to argue with your father about whatever that display was," said Cornelia finally, not looking back, "Claudio just arrived with an even worse party than those ridiculous politicians from yesterday."

Guilford looked to Claudio again, who explained, "Royal staff from the capital, sent by the Empress to prepare Lady Cornelia for her return. They decided to come without warning after I told them they would most likely be turned away."

"But if there is no royalty, then how can she require management staff?" Guilford asked, surprised. Cornelia had barely allowed a royal secretary to manage her affairs, only when she was in Pendragon. She kept threatening to kill anyone else they would send. It was one way to avoid the pageantry of court.

"She's the sister of the Empress, so they want things arranged for her public image and the transition to her new position," Claudio answered. They were supposed to have more time before this, at least a few days. He needed to explain to Cornelia, about the fight and his father. He had to be sure she understood how he felt, but had he run out of time? These bureaucrats didn't come for them, they came for her. A terrible feeling came over him, worse than the anxiety and frustration of the morning. She might have to leave him again, like Gordon said, if the Empress had not made a position for him at Cornelia's side.

"Princess Cornelia," Guilford called out. He rushed forward a few steps and grabbed her wrist. She stopped in her tracks. He saw the offense on her face before it turned to guilt again. That was it wasn't it? She had felt guilty since Euphemia returned, because she realized she would be leaving him behind. Guilford slid his grip down to her fingers, as if she had offered her hand. He remembered Claudio was there, so he couldn't say what he wanted to, that he needed her.

"What are you going to tell them about Euphemia?" he asked instead. Claudio looked confused.

"Nothing. Now go get cleaned up, and make sure she doesn't come downstairs until I get them to leave," Cornelia ordered, and turned away to go into the house, followed by Claudio, who gave him a sympathetic look. She was sending him away.

* * *

A/N: So I took a little longer because I decided after writing this chapter to go back and change Ch. 3 to match it a bit better. I don't like the scenes being too chopped together. You don't have to re-read it if you read the old version, the information is about the same, it's just a different presentation. I doubt I'll being doing something like that again, but leave a comment if you have any suggestions on making the story better writing wise going forward. -T

Also I wanted to address a couple of the comments. If I address more, I'll put them at the bottom of the chapters, but this is quick. Thank you to everyone who has left one so far, it means a lot!

For Republic Che: Yes, I have definitely thought about it. The three of them would be very close to figuring it out, and obviously some people they will meet like Nunnally already know. Their feelings about Lelouch might change a lot. They would also likely figure out Suzaku is Zero, and I haven't decided what Euphy might do about that.

For Parkjenson: I hope the revised version of 3 and 4 feel more cohesive. I think you're right about finding a beginning and end, then I can have a _point_ to the chapter, and it will flow better. I also really really want Euphy/Suzaku and I'm looking forward/dreading when she has to meet 'Zero'. Thanks for the help!


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was just reaching the treeline out the window, and a mist was rising off the gardens, the haze of night lifting slowly. Winding paths were laid out in quiet shadows, asking Cornelia to return to sleep and hide away. She didn't intend to be caught in the landscape, but she thought if they could go out there now, in the soft light and stillness, Guilford might say what was bothering him. Tearing her gaze away, she forced herself to move. It was peaceful, but she was stalling.

She remembered the blouse hanging from her hand and pulled it on, white silk to go with her old uniform pants. The buttons were slipping, so she sat on the bed, watching Guilford sleep. He didn't wake when she brushed the hair from his face, and she could indulge a few more minutes. When she found him yesterday, after sending the new 'royal' staff away, he was introspective again. He treated her gently, as he always did when she was too angry, but no room was left between stiff manners and formalities to discuss what happened to him. The best she could do was let his brothers take him to town in the evening to reconcile.

It was a closely held grief for her, to have him create distance between them, a reminder of everything she'd asked of him to be at her side. She could never admit it, because he would mistake it for pity, but the decision to knight him was a responsibility that still weighed on her mind. The scale of the sacrifice he was willing to give was never lost on her, but accepting her guilt became difficult when he stopped hiding his love. All that time, even a year apart, he never lost faith in her, and she couldn't bear to ask if he had regrets.

She sighed softly, but it was absorbed by the quiet of the room. It was hard to deny him anything after that, even silence, and whatever this was about he _was_ silent. Even returning late, he stared without explanation. She wondered at first if he had too much to drink, but then he'd been everywhere, all hands and closed mouth, demanding attention. He only asked her to say his name, and she told him she wouldn't leave. When he fell asleep, she wondered if he knew she meant it, if it was what he wanted.

The importance of today's meeting was all that kept her going forward, away from him. He'd accepted staying with Euphy as an order, calling Cornelia his Princess, not as a joke, and it almost changed her mind. She wasn't foolish enough to think she'd never sit through another conference, but her duty to the Empire was fading when put against the needs of her knight.

She moved her hand from Guilford's face to his shoulder. She needed to get going before that line of thinking became distracting.

"Guilford," she called softly, pulling the fabric of his shirt. He was sitting up before he was awake, fumbling for his glasses. She hadn't meant to startle him.

"Princess...you're going?" He was rubbing at his face, so she moved in front of the light for him, a dull ache in her chest warning her not to linger.

"I wanted to be sure you're alright before I do," she said and tried to gauge his tone. It was tender for that small moment before remembering where he was.

His lips pressed into a tight line, "I'm fine. Don't worry about me." She reached out to smooth his expression, but he caught her hand in his own.

"And I'm sorry for last night," he actually blushed, a rare occurrence, "you should've thrown me out."

"Did I seem like I wanted to?" she asked and got a furrowed brow in return.

"That's not really the point. It was rude," he answered.

"You can duel yourself for my honor if you like," she watched his other hand move just above her knee, tracing a circle there with a thumb, so serious, and he'd never shown any shame for being in her bed before. She could use it to learn what the was brooding about, but there wasn't enough time, so she dragged her eyes back up to his, "I have to go."

"You said you wouldn't leave," he said, as if he just remembered. She meant it.

"I'll stay, if you need me." It wasn't clear whether that was the right or wrong thing to say.

Guilford took a slow breath, taking his time. He seemed to have something important on his lips, but withdrew his hands instead, "No, you need to do your job." He looked so tired, but if she embraced him she'd wrinkle her shirt.

"I'll be back soon," Cornelia made herself rise, and he fell back into the bed, "don't let Euphy run wild. I told her the beach is too bright for you." When she was at the door, she turned back one more time.

"It's alright," he gave her a small smile, so she went.

* * *

"-and so, for the reveal of plans to rebuild Pendragon we've prepared a speech to position you as a guardian of the new city. Our polls show you're seen as reliable, and considerable sympathy is attributed to you as far as survivors of the area are concerned..."

Cornelia's new royal secretary was trying to explain the public image they crafted for her, and she was doing her best to pay attention after two hours of this discussion. It leaned toward strength, which was appropriate, but gained respect from the people remembering her as a princess. Their interpretation of her was notably devoid of the ruthlessness that'd been her trademark, and she wondered what Guilford would think of it. Putting him out of mind wasn't coming as easily as it used to.

"I'd rather not lean so heavily on references to my former title," she said, focusing back on the speech's outline. The conference room that had been prepared in the town's hotel was packed beyond the capacity of the long table where she was seated at the head. An extra dozen people were simply standing against the walls. It wasn't clear whether they were all necessary, but she had to admit they were well organized, working quickly now that they weren't so scared of her. Each order she gave seemed to reassure them, even when she was rejecting their plans. Whoever they advised before her must've been difficult to make her look compliant.

A young man at the far end of the room, presumably the writer, spoke, "We can only build on reputation, not erase, my Lady. Your long absence helps, but we can't use that if we don't know more about where you were."

"I can't disclose anything beyond what's already been said. Rework this. If it sounds too much like my old lines it will make the UFN nervous. Pleasing them is the real goal here," she said, and the man agreed. No one here had the clearance to discuss the current military situation, but almost every speech she made in her life had a hint of conquest, and she could assume _that_ was to be avoided, "what does that bring us to?"

"Back to travel plans, ma'am," the secretary said.

"Let's get to it then," she answered, a bit too open by the secretary's shocked expression. She'd been putting an effort into commanding the room, but discussing the mundane details of travel was a lovely low-stakes item. When she was younger, the most fun her siblings had was seeing how badly they could inconvenience their handlers. She would have to tell Euphy not to try anything.

"Yes, well," he shuffled some papers around, "a car will take you to Boston, where we've arranged a small plane. It would be best to stay off the roads in New York, to avoid any fanfare." He continued, but the trip was too short to have any real points of contention. The operative word seemed to be subtle as far as keeping the military out of the spotlight. These people weren't completely useless.

"A private flight?" she clarified, it was, "will you be joining us, Claudio?" The young man was standing beside her. He insisted when he saw Guilford wasn't there.

"If I can have the window seat, ma'am" she heard him answer. The room almost relaxed enough to laugh.

"Good," she directed herself at the secretary again, "there will be four of us. Am I to meet with the Empress when we arrive, or the next morning?"

"A private dinner has been arranged by her Majesty," a woman near the end of the table answered for him.

That was a meeting Cornelia looked forward to. All the calls Nunnally made to her were pleasant and personal but slightly strained, as seeing her sister always brought Lelouch and Euphy to mind. It was a problem Cornelia tried not show, but Nunnally always knew, impressing her with forgiveness, never pushing for the support owed by an older sister. With Euphy alive she had to try, for Lady Marianne's sake if nothing else. Letting others keep her away made her feel their father's control, always dividing his children, and she hated it. It reminded her...

"Will the Prime Minister be attending?" Cornelia asked. Seeing Schneizel under Geass control through the television had evoked a mixture of feelings she couldn't explain, mostly anger that he was far beyond a state to resolve their differences. Guilford had, only once, mentioned wanting to kill him, out of hatred for the man or Geass it was unclear, but Schneizel was no longer a real threat. The itch she felt in her trigger finger disgusted her.

"No, we were informed he was invited, but he declined."

"Has _that_ situation been made available to you all?" Cornelia wasn't sure what was known, but she saw the group was only getting tense again because she was. She started tapping her finger on the wood of the table, putting her frustrations there, "I would like as little contact with my brother as possible. Let's call it separating the branches of government. Inform her Majesty I'll have a guest at dinner."

"My Lady, it was supposed to be family only, and-"

"I don't care. Ask her as a favor for me. I have something personal to discuss with my sister," she said, and the conversation was over, "let's move on. I see we haven't decided where my residence is. It's getting late for that, isn't it?"

"Yes ma'am. The imperial palace in New York has a private wing for her Majesty's family, but there is a space set aside in the military installation as well. A commander's suite," the royal secretary reported, then hurriedly added, "the Prime Minister stays at the palace, at her Majesty's side." He wasn't totally incompetent. Cornelia was sure Euphy would want to be with Nunnally, but as long as Schneizel was there it wouldn't be acceptable.

"Put us in the barracks then," she answered tiredly. She went back to the itinerary, not caring if they noticed the annoyance. It would be less spacious, but they never needed much. The secretary wasn't done with the subject.

" _What_ is it?" she wondered at his hesitating.

"Who exactly is 'us', my Lady?" he asked.

She meant Euphy actually, but there was also the obvious. "Lord Guilford and myself," she said, making a show of looking at the computer screen, "I don't see him on our task list, so don't even start."

"We haven't planned your appearances with him in mind," the man explained.

"That's not my concern. He was my personal knight. Did you expect him to disappear?" she was tapping on the table again, daring him to challenge her on this.

"The general understanding is, with his injuries and loss of station, he would be unlikely to rejoin the military, and he isn't here _today_...We do have a plan for your personal relationship, so he can leave without interfering with-"

Cornelia slammed her palm onto the table, a silencing smack. Bureaucrats deciding where Guilford should be, as if he would obey them. She addressed the group, "We'll break for lunch. You have one hour after that, so decide if you really want to spend it on this nonsense."

They filed out quickly, but the secretary clearly wasn't going to drop it. He wasn't uncomfortable like the others, an indication that he was more experienced in his field than he appeared. The last manager she had was so much easier to threaten.

"The reasoning in our plan is sound. It's for your own benefit, my Lady," he placed the corresponding documents in front of her, "and his as well. He'll be well set up."

She waved him off wordlessly, not even bothering to turn the pages. It was too late for this advice. All the arguments were known to her, she just didn't consider them still applicable. At least fifteen years ago her mother's staff sat her down to explain that personal attachments were weaknesses for her enemies to exploit. The safety of the family, eventually the Empire, would be dependent on her remaining strong. They were right, of course, but in the post-war quiet there hadn't been anyone to protect, no reason not to take what she wanted. Would separation really be asked of them again? Guilford shouldn't have to consider this right now, but they had to talk today. He needed to understand she wouldn't keep him away.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" Claudio asked, the only one left in the room, not moving from his post at her side. She wasn't sure how to answer.

"What do _you_ think of this?" she pushed the papers to one side, and Claudio came around to lean on the table's edge. He had his usual calm, but was biting the inside of his cheek as he flipped through the plan.

Claudio didn't look up from the pages, "Guilford hasn't said anything about leaving, right? Nothing like this?"

"He hasn't said much of anything since that fight yesterday," she admitted, rubbing at the palm she smacked on the table. "I was hoping he talked to you, actually. Fraternal conflict is more your department."

There was an awkward pause to Claudio's shuffling, a second where she thought she was wrong about the two men. Guilford reached out to Claudio often, assuring her Darlton's son was getting on, and she assumed they discussed personal matters when she wasn't around. Claudio was still more formal around her.

"Would you, if it hasn't?" she asked, hoping it didn't sound like a command. She wanted to take care of Claudio, even if she did it badly, but it probably should be left to Guilford. He was looking somewhat uncomfortable with her, "you can say no, Claudio. I know he can be difficult."

"I'll talk to him, if you're worried," he answered. No promises.

"You don't think he'll open up?" she asked again. He glanced at her, then considered the emptiness of the room. She hoped she wouldn't feel guilty for this as well. Claudio was too loyal to not tell her what he was thinking.

"Can I speak freely?" he asked first. Cornelia tried not to be hurt that he felt the need to request it.

"Always, you should know that," she said, but when she did he relaxed.

"I think I know what this is about. He used to get into fights like that...My brothers would drag him to our father every time to get talked down, and we tried to stay out of it," Claudio said, remembering his family. He was almost smiling a little, "except for Bart, who ended up scrubbing cockpits."

"Guilford, fighting? I was never told of anything like this," Cornelia found his lightness was reassuring, but it wasn't like Darlton to keep something about her knight a secret. Although, there was one matter they always kept private.

"I think that was the point, ma'am," Claudio stated, of course it was.

"They were talking about me," she concluded, and he nodded. Her heart sank, "you think this is about me."

"It's the only thing he ever fights about," said Claudio. He shouldn't know these things before her. His slight awkwardness was for her ignorance to the obvious. Guilford's dedication to her was genuine, and a burden he couldn't have borne for ten years without complaint. It was hard to imagine Darlton dealing with him on her behalf, so much conflict hidden to keep her on track.

Claudio dropped the papers on the table with a thump, "I'm not my father, but I can try to help. He needs to be ready for duty, right?"

"Yes, but I'll handle it. It doesn't seem appropriate for you to be caught in the middle," she said. Besides that, she wasn't sure what about her they'd end up discussing, so it was best to keep it private. If Guilford was conflicted about following her, she should confront that alone.

"Tell him to fight me next time, then, at least. He shouldn't pick on civilians," Claudio joked. He was trying to cheer her up. So much for taking care of him. He was strong.

"Darlton would be proud of you."

Claudio's calm slipped, and she had the strange urge to hug him, but didn't. He'd get the idea.

When the royal secretary returned with food and determination, Claudio wouldn't be sent away. The conversation promised to be traumatizing, a large file on Guilford threatening her appetite, but there was Darlton, everything he must've said to keep her knight happy. Her closest advisor hadn't thought Guilford should be put aside. It was the closest she'd ever get to his blessing, and she didn't know before that she wanted it so badly.

* * *

An afternoon storm was blowing in as Claudio drove her back to the estate. No beach trip for Euphy, then. They told her Guilford had gone walking despite the weather, claiming the clouds allowed him to see. An opportunity had come to settle things between them, her feelings and why he was upset. She decided to change before going to find him, switching her pants for a skirt she never wore. It was a flowing summer piece, light and impractical, but Gil liked these things. Looking in the mirror, she wasn't a commander anymore, but too casual to be a princess either. She was that other person.

When she first became the Chief General of Britannia, she and Guilford carefully packed away the feelings they had for each other because it became clear her position wouldn't allow her to be an individual apart from duty, and that was what he saw in her. It was a version of herself she never had time to mourn, a woman who was weak and soft when they needed unrelenting force. The Emperor ordered a weapon to hunt his enemies, but all she'd wanted was to be a pilot with her friend, hanging in the solace above the clouds somewhere.

She grabbed an umbrella on her way outside, seeing the rain wouldn't hold back much longer. The system she would be helping to build, one of protection and stability, it needed them to live for something beyond conflict. Cornelia didn't know what else she was suited for, but she was determined not to give up on the part of herself that could find out. Going back to self denial wouldn't help her protect Britannia, and the person they needed her to be was honest. A place in the gentle world was worth fighting for, if it wasn't too contradictory. Her father would've said she was earning her right to exist.

These ponderings should've been shared with Guilford sooner, but it was deep-seated habit for her to decide what their obligations were. She needed to tell him it was his choice as well.

Cornelia searched diligently through the gardens, but Guilford was usually the one finding her. A large stone fountain promised a better view, raising her just above the hedges to see other courtyards and hidden corners. It also put her closer to the raindrops beginning to fall. Popping open the umbrella, she walked a turn around the water's edge, heels clicking on stone and leaves rustling in wind, listening for familiar footsteps, but it was going to be useless with the rain rushing over everything. He was going to get wet. She considered calling out, an undignified option, but then Guilford rounded the corner with his suit jacket over his head, already coming toward her with intent.

"Cornelia," he hurried to help her down, taking the umbrella from her hand to hold it higher, "What are you doing out here?"

"I was looking for you. We need to talk," she answered. She was eager to go with him, but must've sounded too harsh. Clear glasses didn't hide the fear in his eyes, and she felt the tension in his arm where she grabbed it. There wasn't a time she could recall that he'd been afraid of her. That was usually everyone else.

She tried again softly, "I want to talk to you."

Guilford was reluctant, but he let her take his jacket and offered his arm properly, pressing together under the cover. She tried not to be uneasy with his mood. After a day apart, it was a relief to hold on to a part of him.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked, repeating her concern from the morning. She watched his face as he chose a place to take them, looking trapped. There was no point in asking. They both knew he wasn't ok.

He didn't answer anyway, leading away from the house, downhill toward the back of the garden, "I was visiting the memorial for Gregory."

"Your brother?" Guilford stopped bringing him up a long time ago, a boy so similar in appearance and age people thought they were twins. Every deployment in those early days included sneaking out to find his brother in transit hubs, seeing them crash together when Guilford reunited with the unit of commoners he kept missing. She'd almost forgotten, "I should pay my respects."

"Thank you, but...I'd rather not go back there right now," he said. Another hurt he set aside for her. She tried to shift closer, as a comfort and because her skirt was getting wet. He didn't resist, but didn't relax, and there was nothing to say to make it better, she knew.

A quiet built up as they walked. She wished he would look at her, but he was lost in thought. At each step she worked his arm with her fingers, drawing out the stiffness. He couldn't stop her while holding the umbrella, and eventually gave in with a quiet huff.

"Gale wanted to apologize for yesterday," he said. He was scanning the garden for shelter as the rain picked up, falling steadily, "they see it bothered you, the fighting."

"He should apologize to _you_."

"Last night was enough. I explained things to him," Guilford answered vaguely. A set of stone steps down and a turn brought them to the edge of the grounds, a grove of trees on a lawn blending into woods. There was a gazebo raised off the grass nearby, their destination.

"If you're fine with it...I don't want you to be at odds with your family," she found a seat within on a small bench, but he was stuck in the doorway, pole of the umbrella leaning on his shoulder, looking her over. He wasn't frowning exactly, but he didn't want to come.

"Please, Gil?" she asked. She wouldn't order him. He accepted slowly, folding the umbrella mechanically before setting it down, and took his place beside her. There was just enough room. They stared down the path they'd walked, watching rain soak the lawn, but the sound was soft, filtered through the trees. The cooled air and freshness were soothing, but Guilford was still distant. He wasn't trying to touch her, but didn't pull away either as they sat shoulder to shoulder. For them, the effort was always in staying apart. Coming together had been a matter of letting go, and she didn't know what to call it if she was going to ask him to stay. She waited to find the words to begin, but he broke the silence first.

"Cornelia."

"Yes?"

"What do you want from me?" he asked. She didn't understand his emotion, something close to exhaustion but surprisingly mild.

"Well, you've been troubled the past few days. I-"

"I made a vow," he interrupted, "I promised to protect you, to be your sword and shield, but is that what you want?"

"You're still my knight, of course. That won't change," she said. The badge still in his jacket was evidence of that. To act otherwise would dishonor him.

"When you go to be the Chief General, you want me at your side?" he pressed.

"I need you there, Guilford, you know that," she looped her arm through his, to reassure herself, and he finally met her eyes, briefly. There was something in his look, but it wasn't resolve. When he found her in the hospital he begged her to call him her knight. Now, he was questioning his position. She could barely comprehend the idea as it came to her with a sense of dread, clearer than the small doubts she pushed away before.

"Do you want me to release you, from your vows?" she managed to say it, a decision he could make to be at peace instead of dragged around by her. A chill fell over her, but his jacket on her lap was no barrier. If he did want to leave, then every kindness they recently shared became a cruelty binding him with her own needs. There was no authority keeping him except his conscience, which she could ease, knowing he deserved better, "you've done so much. I could never refuse."

"No. I'm sorry, please that's not what I meant," he was saying all at once, tugging away and kneeling before her, folding their hands together, "we don't talk about it, but we've gone past duty, haven't we? But I can go back as your knight, if you think I'm still worthy."

"Of course you are," she watched him attend her hands with care, warmth moving from palm to wrist, and back again, "I just want you to be happy."

Guilford paused his ministrations to look up at her, "That can't be your main consideration."

"Don't start with that. You asked me what I wanted."

She pulled him up with her, arms wrapping around his waist. The afternoon wasn't cold, but she was shivering as his jacket slipped between them. He caught it, stroking her back and saying nothing. They stood there more than a moment, until the humidity had her sticking, making his shirt damp, but the heat was comforting. When she peeled away, he was staring down at her.

"What do _you_ want, Guilford?" she asked his question, "this is what's been bothering you, isn't it?"

He tossed his jacket onto the bench, and pressed her back into him with both arms, waiting to respond, "I shouldn't tell you."

"Why?" She knew his mouth was in that straight line again without looking. He was holding her so she wouldn't have to see.

"You'll have to say no."

"You don't know that" she said, and he kissed the top of her head. He did know.

"Claudio told me this is an old issue, that you got into fights over it before," she probed.

"I wouldn't call it an issue," Guilford sighed, loosening his hold enough for her to move and meet his eyes.

"Tell me," she stared him down as gently as possible, "I argued with my _royal_ secretary all through lunch about you, but he eventually agreed. When things are more settled, we can be together. I'll fix whatever this is."

When he just blinked at her she added, "you wouldn't believe the obscene questions I had to answer."

"Together?"

"Officially. I should've asked you sooner, if you'll have me," she was disappointed when he released her abruptly, a final doubt before he grabbed her face to crash their lips together, kissing her desperately. She almost stumbled with his urgency, and he had to catch her, but didn't slow his advances. Her hands slid up to brace on his shoulders, then his neck, then his hair as he kept pulling her closer. She could feel him smiling.

It was a roll of thunder that finally stopped them. Their pathway was starting to flood. If they didn't want to get stuck out here, they should leave soon, but he was pushing her back to her seat on the bench. All that tension before, he must have thought she would leave him. The same dread she felt for a few minutes he carried for days. It was a terrible thing how easily he forgave her.

"You don't have to do that," she said as he started to kneel again, but he lowered himself anyway, so she offered her hand, stroking his with her thumb. There was tension there again, but it was excitement. A free hand went to his pocket.

"I was afraid I ran out of time to explain," he brought out an incredibly small box, "this was the 'issue'."

Guilford placed the box in her palm, a jewelry box, smooth and stiff. There was resistance in the hinges, but she pried it open to reveal a gold ring couched in velvet, a simple and delicate setting for a single square stone. Recognizing what it was sent heat to her cheeks. Euphy was right. He would marry her.

"I'm not asking you to do anything," said Guilford, brushing her hair back over an ear to get her attention, "I wanted you to know before we go back."

The ring was dwarfed by her hand, cool against her skin. There wouldn't be any going back if she slipped it on her finger. A proposal wasn't necessary to keep them together. This was an invitation to come away and forget her obligations.

"Would you even let me accept?" she murmured as she twirled the band around a fingertip.

He sat beside her and draped his jacket over her shoulders, arm around her to settle them in despite the downpour, "I don't know...you can't."

This was true. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if they walked away from their duty, all the destruction that needed answering and stability for Britannia. Even if she could throw off the role she was born for, there was also Euphy to consider. Geass was out there, and she needed power to protect her sister.

Guilford knew all of this, and it was depressing to talk about, so she considered the ring again instead. The guilt she felt for the life she gave him, it couldn't be so justified if he was giving her this. She was the one who needed to be worthy. The stone was small but clear. It wasn't going to impress anyone, but was suitable. It may even fit under her piloting gloves.

"Where did you get it?" she asked. It was too plain to be a new piece.

"Darlton gave it to me, actually, years ago," Guilford said. His hand was hot beneath hers, examining the ring for himself, "After one of those fights, I said I'd end our arrangement, and he was calling my bluff."

"You wouldn't have dared," she said, but it would be just like him to ask to leave by committing further.

"Clearly, but every now and then I needed a reminder. He would've killed me if I actually tried it."

Darlton only asked her once if she was going to leave her position over Guilford. He didn't lose a step when she said she would stay, and so would her knight.

"I ordered him to mind his own business," she said, sad smile threatening her lips. There was something in her eye.

"He didn't want to see you hurt." Guilford reached in front of her into his jacket for a handkerchief.

"That man," she muttered. It wasn't the rain on her face, but Darlton wouldn't want her to cry over him, "what did he think about us? He wasn't stupid enough to tell me."

"Well, there was a lot of profanity involved each time we talked about it, and I would accuse him of jealousy, though he never took that bait...but in the end he was kind, if you can believe it," Guilford said, laughing a bit to keep his own pain at bay. He never expressed sorrow about Darlton around her, and Cornelia suspected it was an explicit request of the general, the type of thing Darlton would think to arrange. Guilford let her sit quietly and consider the kindness she hadn't seen, calmed by the weight of his arm and the sound of the storm.

She closed her hand around the ring, "I'd like to keep it, if you think he'd approve."

"You should then, until I can ask you properly," he held the box while she tucked the band away. Another round of thunder had them preparing to leave. They were going to get soaked.

"Are you alright?" she asked as he opened the umbrella. He was half in the rain already, but staring at her again. It was too much like his silence of before.

"Yes," he broke into a smile, to her relief, "the skirt looks nice."

* * *

A/N: So this took forever because I wrote the whole thing on my phone. I have a better setup now but editing phone garbage took a couple days. Next one will be faster, finger crossed. ~ T


	6. Chapter 6

An ungracious thump sounded from behind a door in the second floor hallway. Someone must've taken a tumble.

"-and that's my room," Guilford finished, indicating the source of the noise. He'd been showing Claudio around the place so he wouldn't be lost for their last few days here.

"Should you find out what that was?" asked Claudio. There was a long pause, and then giggling from behind the door. Guilford hadn't explained Euphemia's arrival to Claudio yet, but there was no way the tinkling laughter could be mistaken for Cornelia. The sisters were getting ready to go to the beach. He had to prepare Claudio for _that_ as well.

"I'll show you to your room first," he led on to the next door before Claudio could insist.

It was a mild abuse of authority. Claudio did whatever he asked, even after being explicitly told he was no longer Guilford's subordinate. Habit was what Cornelia thought it was, but he made Claudio account for it after too many salutes. Chain of command was the structure he was raised in, and following a friend's orders was his way of showing trust. Guilford didn't push for a more casual manner after how earnest he was.

As Claudio placed his bags on the bed, something light smacked against the wall adjoining their rooms, causing a raised eyebrow.

' _I'm not wearing that.'_ They could hear Cornelia, and more giggling.

"There's someone else in there," Claudio couldn't help thinking aloud. His previous discovery of Guilford in the hospital, then Cornelia was a testament to his ability, but Euphemia was too far out of mind. He'd been calm and collected through two revivals, so at least there was no worry about how he would take the news.

"Yes, I have to explain that," Guilford leaned in the doorframe while Claudio unpacked. Whatever was said in the other room was hilarious, "the guest Cornelia told those people about yesterday."

"She was serious about that?" asked Claudio from the closet. He still had his old uniform to hang.

"There's no reason to make someone up."

"Sure, but I figured she was talking about you, saying it was private business and all."

"Oh."

He supposed that was a logical conclusion with what Claudio knew, or whatever he knew. They hadn't talked beyond the basics of his continued association with Cornelia, but the three of them were together in Japan until only a month or so ago. Claudio wasn't an idiot, just discreet. With the way he was still devoted to Cornelia it seemed wrong to discuss her on such a personal level, but she did say he was a topic at yesterday's meeting.

"Did they talk a lot about me?" he asked casually.

"Princess Cornelia didn't tell you?" Claudio lost hold of the boots he'd been putting away, an unexpected slip.

A door slammed with more thumping.

"I gather her secretary doesn't like me. She's told me about their discussion, but I meant when you were around," his explanation had Claudio fumbling around more, very unusual for the soldier. Lilac eyes darted around, like when he used to ask Guilford to hide him or his brothers from their father after too many jokes became insubordination. They didn't always stay where they were supposed to be...

"Wait, were you there for that!?"

"I had a good reason! Sir," Claudio gave a salute. Had he heard _everything_? What Cornelia told him of that conversation was way past personal boundaries. It was no wonder he looked traumatized.

"Really," Guilford yanked the man's arm down, exasperated, and threw himself into a chair, "there's no need for that. Are you ok?"

"I thought she would've told you I was there," Claudio set himself on the bed, a hand pulling at his curls, eyeing him nervously.

Guilford wasn't sure how this detail slipped by him, but there had been a lot to talk about after Cornelia returned, how she didn't want him to draw their relationship back and her worrying on his behalf. Continuing their current situation while going back to work, even in private, was new territory since they'd given up on it last time, but it was the first thing he'd seen her so motivated about in a long time. She believed they could do it.

In direct opposition to his insecurities, she'd pointed out every proof of his importance to her, each comforting gesture and caring word going back years. The overwhelming quantity of things she had to say spoke to the depth of her conversation with her secretary, some matters he'd long forgotten. If he was there, Claudio heard Cornelia's plans and her feelings about him, his old promises and their sleeping arrangements. This was a ruthless way of giving him a confidante. How typical of her.

"At least it means she doesn't mind you knowing," he resisted the urge to rub at his face, attempting to not look tense for the younger man's benefit, "Do you need me to," he searched for the word, " _elaborate_ on anything?"

"Oh, no I think I got the picture," Claudio hurried, "but if you want to talk about it..."

Cornelia would want him to open up, and Claudio must know that to give the opportunity right now. They agreed to take care of one another for her, but this wasn't the time or the place.

He got up to grip Claudio's shoulder, "Thank you for trying. I'm sure she appreciates it."

"She was worried about you," Claudio looked up gratefully, but didn't give in on his duty.

"I know, but you can stand down. I'm not going anywhere." A good nod and a pat on the back settled that for now. After allowing a recovery he had to ask, "did you really listen to all of it on purpose?"

"Yeah," Claudio gave a small laugh, "but I couldn't just leave Princess Cornelia on her own, with you not there. She seemed different. I wasn't sure she would be alright."

"Was something wrong?" he asked, "and you ought to stop calling her that. She doesn't like it from you."

Cornelia was different from the last time Claudio saw her give orders, but they all were. She was changed even from a few days ago with Euphy here, although this morning he woke up to her crying again, forgetting her sister was safe in a moment of sleepiness. Perhaps she was more obliging than she used to be, easier to show her feelings, but she was still capable of commanding a room.

"I doubt anyone at the meeting noticed except me, but she was soft on them. She didn't issue any threats, and when the secretary spoke to her alone she looked...scared," Claudio said.

"Scared?" That couldn't be right.

"It was more a lack of force. I know it won't be the same as before, but she almost seemed vulnerable. It was unsettling," Claudio glanced to the wall when another burst of laughter came through, "she said she would be fine, but you would know."

The meeting had gone well from Cornelia's perspective, so Guilford wasn't sure what to make of Claudio's account. His Princess was always the guide for their professional conduct, and she was good at it. If she didn't go in guns blazing, it was because it wasn't worth it. There was also the stress of the past days to consider, his problems and Euphy returning, that could put her off balance, but it was fairly well resolved now. He wasn't going to let this compromise her.

Guilford sighed and settled back into his chair, "She _will_ be fine. You'll understand when you meet the person I was talking about."

"This guest of Princess Cornelia's?" Claudio asked.

"She's not actually a guest," Guilford began, but firm steps in the hall interrupted, and Cornelia stood in the doorway with a sundress and braided hair. It was mild for all the commotion they'd been listening to.

"Have you told him yet?" she asked. There was a pattering of lighter feet like hopping, somewhere out of view.

"I was just about to," he couldn't help smiling at how pretty she looked. She wouldn't want him to say it, but the grin she was fighting meant she knew.

Addressing Claudio, she got right to the point, "Euphemia is alive. She's here, and she's been waiting to see you." So much for her going soft.

A second of processing was all that Claudio was allowed before Euphy pushed past her sister to say hello, and Guilford wasn't sure the man understood until after he got a hug and a string of questions. The excitement Euphy had was a relief. She was all sunshine and sweetness, but with what she'd been through, they weren't sure when she might fall into despair or what might set it off. Her future was uncertain, and Guilford hoped someone closer to her age, even by a few years, would be helpful.

"Will you go to the beach with us?" Euphy repeated herself, not bothered by Claudio's staring. Guilford had to nudge him before he would remove the hand that was still on her arm.

"I don't have a swimsuit."

Cornelia laughed, "That won't stop her."

* * *

Guilford was stuck watching everyone from the shelter of a canopy set in the sand, but he was glad to have come along. Any headache was worth a show of Cornelia enjoying herself. She was conspiring with his brothers and Anne by the water, teasing his small nephew with the end of her hair and distracting Euphy long enough to be struck by an unexpected wave. It was rare for her to get along with so many people without trying to organize them, and she hadn't laughed in such a carefree way for years. She wasn't hiding behind one of her masks.

It was encouraging for her to act this way around his family, to go over the wall of her position and relax. He knew it was a sign of how serious she was about being together _officially_ , as if she ever committed to something halfway. Confusion had been her main reaction to his father's displeasure, and he barely prevented her from dragging them into another lecture. She was used to simply stepping down and creating whatever boundaries she liked. That was the privilege of high rank. In a normal family, as he had to put it, they didn't need the approval of the almighty patriarch anyway. Sympathy from Gale was enough to start with. Once his brother understood the extent of their attachment, he'd gotten a handle on Gordon. His oldest brother still didn't seem happy, but Cornelia was giving as good as she got in teasing, and the three of them talking easily at the shoreline was enough for Guilford, even if the jokes were likely at his expense.

When they went back to work, moments like this would have to be less frequent. Giving them up was out of the question, but Cornelia did operate better with a severe line between her public and private lives. A great deal of care would be needed to maintain that distinction between the two of them, and it was always up to him to manage it, to find the right amount of formality. The times he was wrong left her uncertain, like yesterday. They better have no warning signs for Claudio to pick up on when their time here was up. If he showed confidence she would match it, and if he got a handle on his anxiety there would be no reason for her to worry. The problem was with no more barriers between them he had to actually do it, not just pretend.

Guilford watched Liza cover Claudio's leg in sand, a faster way to make a sandcastle. There was someone who was still confident in his ability. She hadn't given up on a knightmare show, and if she told Cornelia there would be no getting out of it. The Glasgow prototype he'd been allowed to keep here still worked, and she would want to see him pilot it, a reminder of their test corps days. The way Cornelia was acting now, it was a lot like she'd been back then, open and funny. So much struggle and pain had followed that time, loss that couldn't be recovered. If he'd convinced her to stay with him then instead of seeking glory for the Empire, would that have been better for everyone, or worse? He was doing the same thing now, not asking her to run away, so maybe it was hopeless to wonder, but the repeated opportunity felt heavy. What was the point of it all?

Cornelia's ability to sense his mood was more keen than she ever let on. She made her way over before he could form an existential crisis, baby in arms. A towel wrapped Michael up safely from her wet swimsuit. The modest piece covered battle scars he knew were there, and at the moment he was grateful.

"We thought you could use some company. There's someone else who isn't supposed to be in the sun too long," she set the bundle in his arms before searching about for a water bottle. He thought it wasn't to his nephew's credit to be so content around strangers, but it was only with Guilford he began to fuss.

"Gale was alright with this?" he asked, bouncing his arms a bit, though it didn't help. He could physically watch a child, but he wasn't an ideal babysitter.

She found another towel after taking a drink, covering her shoulder before grabbing Michael back, "I reminded him I had a lot of younger siblings, and you _are_ generally competent under my command." She was patting and actually soothing the boy, "I used to do this for Nunnally. Lady Marianne kept her close, and I would beg to spend time with them even back then."

Guilford hadn't known Cornelia very long when Lady Marianne was killed. He didn't have the rank at the time to be allowed anywhere near her villa, even accompanied by the Second Princess, but she was always relaxed after visiting there. When he was homesick his first year in Pendragon, she understood when he compared it to that place.

"Euphy would sit on one side," she continued, "and Lelouch on the other. He was so gentle then. I don't know if I'll ever understand..." Her smile was fading.

"I thought you came to cheer me up," he said, pulling her away from the horizon.

"Yes. However," she sighed, settling the baby into her lap where he could sit up, playing with her fingers, "when Lelouch used his Geass on me-"

"You're supposed to be enjoying yourself."

"-I was, but then I noticed-" she shrugged. It was a sharp reminder how low her threshold for 'too much fun' was. He should be distracting her, but maybe that was the real reason she joined him. It usually worked, if he noticed in time.

"Lelouch could've killed me, but didn't, even though he shot Euphy. I wish I could remember what he wanted from me...It's strange, he wasn't a child to do things without reason..."

Guilford didn't want her obsessing over this. It was enough for him to live with the consequences of whatever Lelouch wanted, and if he had to guess it was probably luck that Cornelia wasn't killed by her brother. She kept wondering though, seeing more in the royal family than he was able to understand. She was a part of them. What Guilford did know was the conflict she felt for Lelouch and the others, her father, could be turned onto herself too easily.

"I think you should put it out of your mind. It's more important to look at the result, and focus on the people still here," he put a hand to her knee, her own hands still otherwise engaged, as a plea to leave the matter. It was a token of love that she tried to relent.

"You'd rather I think all about you, I suppose," she looked around before leaning a cool cheek on his shoulder, though there wasn't any reason to hide in present company. A call of laughter drew his attention to the shore where Euphy was being fished out of the water by Claudio and a waiting Liza.

"Maybe not all. There's Euphemia. I've always settled for somewhere between her and world domination," he joked, but Cornelia didn't laugh, and she didn't look at her sister.

"I am sorry, that it wasn't more," she murmured, almost absentmindedly. He should tread lighter when Lelouch was mentioned, but this was out of proportion, _unsettling_. She never apologized for their arrangement, no matter how strained by her position or close he came to danger. The whole point of being her knight was sacrifice for a greater goal, whatever she determined that to be. Any regret for what'd been between them was to say he was wrong to trust her, and that couldn't stand.

"Don't say that, Cornelia. It was as much as I chose," he squeezed her knee lightly, "my Lady."

She stiffened at the title, looking up at him, "Of course, I didn't mean it like that, but I missed thinking about you sometimes, that's all."

Claudio's worries, was he seeing what Guilford didn't wish to see? There was no sign of the woman who could order him to mortal peril. She was being honest, and her face was so soft, so easily sad. He reached an arm around her, damp suit and all, unsure if closeness was the correct thing to make her toughen up, but it was what she wanted.

"You underestimate what you did give. It was enough, and we're still alive for it," he said.

"I've just been thinking back through _all_ my decisions," she shifted the baby in her lap as he abandoned her fingers to reach for the sand, "Lelouch could be here, if I'd done something different, given more. I should've found him and Nunnally when we established Area 11, or found Euphemia in my search for Geass, and-"

"And?"

Cornelia remembered he didn't want to talk about this, hesitating, but unable to stop, "I didn't find you when you were hurt, and you were fighting that whole time, against my own brother who I could have saved."

When she went silent, he pulled her closer to touch his lips on the top of her head. Debating her guilt would only encourage it, so he'd keep her here until she managed. It was more important to protect her then find out why she felt this way. If the others thought she was here to keep him company that would do. Knowing some of her trouble was on his behalf was as unbearable as he always imagined. Maybe in the capital she could let go, seeing Nunnally secure, someone Lelouch hadn't destroyed. The Empress was a kind young woman who could offer the forgiveness Cornelia needed.

Nearly unheard in the sand, Guilford's mother arrived, later than everyone else and alone. Nobody expected his father to make an appearance anyway, holed up in his study all morning except to meet Claudio and speak well of General Darlton. Even another man's son was better than Gilbert right now. By the cautious look his mother gave when noticed, he knew Father had finally told her about them, but Cornelia took it for the usual uncertainty his mother had being around her, pulling away from him politely.

"You couldn't draw him out, Elizabeth?" she asked after his father. She made room for his mother's low folding chair and offered his nephew to waiting arms. A bit of cooing and a search for Anne was completed before there was an answer.

"No, Gladius has a lot on his mind," she turned a maternal tone on Cornelia, who was unused to such things, "you should ignore him when he's being difficult. I want you to be comfortable here."

"Thank you. I've been enjoying my stay, my sister as well," Cornelia answered with poise, surprised by casual the manner, and tapped his leg with a finger. She was missing something, and didn't care for it.

He caught her hand before she could withdraw, "My Father told her about us."

"I see," she didn't go into the negotiations she planned for his father, appearing vulnerable, what she must've looked like to Claudio. This wasn't good timing. He wanted to draw her in again, or at least warm her hand that was always cold, but his mother's eye was on them.

"Mother?"

"Seeing you both on the television is very different from having you here," she said.

"Do you disapprove?" he asked, knowing Cornelia didn't like these things drawn out. It was more direct than he usually was with his mother, but she'd come prepared.

"I don't know what I can say. There's no way for me to disapprove with Cornelia's rank, as much as those things shouldn't matter anymore, but I share your father's concerns. She should speak to him. He can't be afraid forever, with how gentle she is to the children.

"Gilbert has always written about you so nicely, and you've been so gracious at every visit. I do want you to feel at home," she said to Cornelia. She was being plied with a motherly warmth that he'd never seen anyone use on the princess. It looked ready to make her flustered as when her brothers used to flatter her with affection.

"I...that is, we don't really have another home. I shouldn't have kept him away so long."

"Fear isn't how I would characterize Father's reaction," Guilford was glad to see her drawn out, but wouldn't be distracted, if that was the intention.

His mother fussed with the baby to avoid looking at him, "You know how he is. He'll never say how worried he was when you were missing...but there are other things. He tried not to tell me, and what I know I wouldn't want to say here."

" _General_ Guilford should hardly be afraid of me. The first time he saw me I wasn't much bigger than this," Cornelia let go of him to lean over Michael, and offered a finger to his tiny fist. Over her shoulder, he saw the serious nature of his mother's words.

If Father had something deeper than his claims of bad professional conduct, then surely it would've come out in their heated words to each other. Unless, the real reason was deliberately held back because Gilbert couldn't know, something secret that even his mother wasn't supposed to be told. He was a fool to think this was a petty matter of propriety. Cornelia's rank was still a part of it, that much was clear, but it wasn't as simple as cowering before her noble honor. With the ease she was showing around his family, that excuse wouldn't hold. His mother was right, Cornelia confronting his father was the way to get to the bottom of it.

"You may have become a bit more imposing since then," Guilford watched her coax a laugh out of the baby. It was uncanny how she could do that after the terrible force he'd seen from those hands. In some small way, Father was right to be afraid.

Eventually the others joined them to rest, but Cornelia insisted he attempt one foot in the ocean, bright light aside. It was a promise of his. He had to close his eyes halfway to the shore, but she guided him confidently over the piles of sand without tripping. When he reached the water, he cupped his hands over the tops of his glasses. It would be nice to see the right colors without the dulled grey of his shades, but he could imagine the deep blues, green in the sun and white foam on dark waves. The salt smelled the same and the water was just as cold as it rushed in. Cornelia was looking at him expectedly.

This was one of the places he would say he'd rather be when they were pinned down on campaign dealing with a hundred calls every minute, or behind enemy lines bored to death by another rebel manifesto clogging the open channel. The view here was a limitless horizon, free and clear he would tell her, a place of possibilities. He took a deep breath of it, the breeze that never reached a cockpit, and Cornelia was satisfied. She caught a shell rolling in, saw it was broken, and tossed it back. They weren't as unbothered as the ideal of the place he'd kept in his mind, but she was here with him.

"Do you need my father's approval?" he asked her, "would you marry me without it?"

"Are you _asking_ me to?" she had a sly smile. He wondered what would happen if he did.

When she saw he wouldn't she changed her question, "You think it's that bad, with your father?"

"I'm no longer sure what his objection is. It may be worse than we thought."

"A scandalous elopement isn't a reasonable alternative to finding out," she said. The waves were burying their feet in wet sand, and she pulled him to walk on, "unless you mean to use that as a threat for his agreement. I'm not sure that would work."

"Nothing so dramatic, but if he's hopeless I don't want you to dwell on it."

"I don't think it will come to that. I'm determined to convince him to give me your hand," she laughed. Guilford was pleased she seemed recovered. He knew how dangerous her determination was.

As they walked, he explained the knightmare display his niece had planned, and she changed her mind. She would win him in a duel, though against whom they didn't know. Certainly she thought she could beat him, but there was only one frame. All her teasing for the procedures of honor that had been a part of his station had him mentioning how two people _can_ fit inside a sixth draft Glasgow, as she knew for a fact. They just had to be very close. She abandoned him in the shallows until he swore not the tell that story to Claudio, and he had the chance to complain at the full disclosure she'd given yesterday. There was no apology, but Cornelia agreed his complaints should be gotten out now, before there were more important things to discuss than the coziness of his knightmare.

A small cry on the wind had them turning around. The high toned clarity of it, it must be Euphemia. Guilford spotted her standing over Claudio, who was kneeling to dig in the sand, her hand covering her mouth in some shock. The only mark he could see on her as she walked toward them was her single gunshot scar. She couldn't be injured, but something had disturbed her. Cornelia grabbed his arm to close the distance, and he could feel her happiness slipping away again.

"Cornelia, I remembered, just standing there," she wasn't going to cry, but her hands didn't leave her face. She whispered as Claudio hurried up behind, "under Geass, I shot Darlton. He tried to stop me, and I...I don't want to remember!"

Guilford could feel the terror that was held between her fingers. She looked ready to blow over. He didn't want to remember being controlled either, betraying Britannia and killing his own men in battle, but if it happened to her then...it could be a matter of time...It was enough for Geass to be contained in forgotten nightmares. To recall would be ultimate cruelty, especially for Euphemia whose will was so distorted. Why this had to happen here, of all places, he didn't understand.

"Euphy," Cornelia reached out, but her sister pulled away.

"He was your friend," she said. Claudio got a hand on her shoulder, and her wide eyes went to him without saying it, _his father_.

"It wasn't you," Claudio held on while Cornelia got an arm around her, hiding her away. At Cornelia's indication, Guilford went to make their excuses. They should take her back to the house.

* * *

He ended up sitting on the floor outside Euphy's room, head leaned against the door. Cornelia was within, continuing the effort to comfort her sister, but the girl was inconsolable. Telling her it wasn't her fault, that it would be alright, hadn't helped, nor Claudio's attempt to absolve her regarding his father. More than anything, she was afraid of remembering more of the massacre, seeing through her own eyes how many people she destroyed, and her horror for it sent her beyond their reach.

The notebook Euphy gave them was spread out in his hands again, the drawing of Darlton revealed. They had no idea if she really shot him, but it wasn't something she would just imagine. His body was nearly destroyed when Guilford found the remains of his knightmare on the roof of the Area 11 bureau, its spear buried in what what left of Cornelia's cockpit. No one knew how the general made it from the Special Zone to Tokyo or in what condition, and Guilford didn't investigate. Cornelia was gone and no matter the obvious evidence of betrayal, he refused to believe Darlton capable, rejected any opportunity to dignify the rumors. Ten hours of operation time later, he'd slammed Kururugi against a docking bay wall, not letting go until the boy relinquished the message from his Princess, absent any mention of her advisor, and that was enough. When he learned the truth about Geass, it was that incident that made him comprehend the power to control.

Dry paper turned under his hands, the story of Euphemia realizing the immense sadness she left in Japan, a new revelation for each stop in her journey. She wondered how she could be worth saving, what Suzaku would think of her. Each quiet longing and choking doubt displayed was kindling to the ambition Guilford boxed away, a fire to consume his anxiety. Darlton would want him to destroy every last trace of this wretched Geass, and with Cornelia leading they could, for every person whose convictions were twisted out of control. Euphemia had been ready to love all of them: Britannians, the Elevens, even Lelouch, but she was reduced to this, a person who wouldn't be able to show her face anywhere, who hated herself. His own recent weakness be damned, he was going to find the peace she deserved, and each stranger she met and recorded on these pages would understand the truth of her dream for them.

Behind him the door pulled away, and Cornelia collapsed into his arms, too exhausted to mind the hard floor. Her face in his shoulder pinned him to this cause. A world with Euphy's honor restored was one of kindness where his Princess would be free.

"She fell asleep," Cornelia said into his chest, "I don't know what to do when she wakes."

"Look here," he unwrapped an arm to bring the notebook into her view and flipped to the end. A thousand messages in a dozen languages filled the paper, each the signature of a person who helped her sister return to them. It was a petition for hope, evidence of the good nature Euphemia found in others.

"These people saw her for who she is and chose to set aside the destruction around them to be kind. Nothing can change the intentions of her heart, not even Geass. It doesn't matter what she was made to do. They fought back by making their own decisions while they could."

Cornelia placed a finger to one of the markings, green pen telling her to find the road home signed with a heart. It was surrounded by an endless stream of goodwill.

 _Euphie, I won't give up. See you in Paris one day, the biggest stage I can find._

 _If they have apple trees where you're going, pick the highest one for me!_

 _Try to stay out of the rain so you don't catch a cold again._

 _Keep your chin up, kid. They won't want you to cry._

 _You'll find your sister. We all believe in you._

"You can do it, Cornelia. I know it. We can choose to protect all of these people, not just the Britannians, by driving away what's left from the war. Not one more person needs to be lost in this madness."

"A gentler world, that's what Nunnally calls it," her hand covered the page as if to embrace, "there's a place for Euphy there."

"There's a place for us as well. Use this to discharge our duty to the Empire, and lend them all the might of an Imperial Princess. I want to see what's left of Geass burn."

She met his eyes with a furrowed brow and surprise. He hadn't spoken with such surety in months, but he could see her thoughts moving, the call of the fight. Unbreakable force of will was the only gift the 98th Emperor gave his children, and her's was long overdue to return. The unmatched intensity was what drew Guilford in, made him follow her with absolute trust. When she made him her knight, she convinced him he would crawl right out of his grave at her command. If this weapon of Britannia was taken up by the new world, it would not fail.

"Yes," she snapped the diary closed, "I'll do it, for Euphy," her hands went to his shoulders, "and for you. We'll give them every piece of the power I earned under my father. No one else will be cast aside into the cruelty that transformed Lelouch."

* * *

A/N: I realize I have to get a move on if I don't want this to be a hundred chapter story, so we'll get to Nunnally soon. I think I might upload some of the fluffy filler bits from this setting as a chapter while I figure out what I'm doing next specifically. If I plan it out better, that's faster writing. We also have to move on before I abandon this to write a young GuilfordxCornelia story. I want to see this one through before I try that. Let me know what you think. -T


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